The First to Know
by Nutella1234
Summary: Harry Potter has started his third year at Hogwarts with his ever-present, painful secret. The last person he wants to know is his hated professor, the greasy git. And unfortunately for Harry, he becomes the first to find out. But is being a greasy git all there is to Snape? Mentions of abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Harry yawned tiredly and stretched painfully. It was the first Wednesday morning of the first week at Hogwarts. The first week was the worst; the teachers were very eager to begin assigning homework to the returning third years. He had only two classes today, Divination and Potions. As Harry got up from his bed, he made his way to the bathroom to get ready. Ron, Neville and the other boys were still sleeping.

As Harry entered into the bathroom, sunlight was just starting to peak above the many trees that surrounded the huge school of Hogwarts. The sky was turning a dull orange and small clouds were visible, lined in a purple hue dotting the vast space. It was still warm outside and only the first hints of fall were beginning to make an appearance.

The bathroom Harry was in was quiet and every movement Harry made proceeded to create an echo in the vast stone walls. This was how he liked it. No one would be able to bother him or possibly see what Harry was trying so hard to hide. As he shed his pajama shirt, it took a lot of willpower to look in the mirror. Harry held his breath as he observed the dark purple fading bruises that spotted his body. His right arm sported a particularly obvious one, in the shape of a large hand right before the wrist. That one had given Harry the most trouble to hide. Luckily the school robes had long sleeves that could hide it. A nasty one lined his left side of his collarbone that was now starting to turn yellow. It traced from his neck to his shoulder. There were various other bruises on his back and his stomach, the worst being the five huge purple markings around another five long injuries that looked very much like scratches, but Harry knew had come from a belt. Harry let himself breathe again as he noticed the scratch marks had scabbed up much more than when he came three days ago. The bruises around them were fading just a bit, but he was still extremely sore on his back. Heck, his whole body was still sore.

Uncle Vernon had no mercy on him this thrashing. He had been very upset that Harry got his letter for this year when an important visitor was in the house. The owl had startled her so badly, she fainted and broke one of Vernon's artifacts he had lying on a table. Harry knew he was in for it. Vernon simmered for a long time and the day before Harry left, Vernon grabbed him by the arm and dragged him upstairs, where he gave him quite a few good whacks and five nasty lashings. The next day Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express, still extremely sore and went back into the steady routine of magical schooling. So far, Harry had been able to avoid telling anyone the truth by getting up early for his showers. He had one close call with Hermione almost seeing his arm bruise in Transfiguration when Neville accidentally turned a teacup into a crow and the breeze from the flying bird blew his sleeve up. Harry said it was just a shadow on his arm and thankfully, Hermione had accepted that explanation and went back to her work.

Harry jumped into the shower and let the warm water soothe his hurts. It felt so good to take a long shower, something he was denied at the Dursley's. When Harry got out, he let his hair air dry. By now, the sun was visible above the trees and Harry knew that the others would be waking soon. He snuck back into the common room and sat on the red sofa in front of the couch, reviewing for Potions class in hopes that Snape wouldn't have any reason to insult him for being so completely stupid just because Harry didn't know everything. Within about fifteen minutes, the rest of the boys emerged as well as the girls, and soon the common room was filled with Gryffindor students. He met up with Hermione and Ron and the three of them studied together until breakfast was called. Breakfast went off with no problems, save for when Ron's owl, Errol fell into his goblet and splashed pumpkin juice three feet down the table. On the way to Divination, Ron grumbled about how much everyone was laughing at his owl and he wished they could afford a younger one.

When they reached Divination, Professor Trelawney began predicting Harry's death. After a good while, Harry began to get annoyed and just stared out the windows, daydreaming as the sickly sweetness of the fire slowly lulled him to sleep. The next thing he knew was Ron shaking him awake and the three of them made their way to the dungeons for Potions class.

All the students filed in and Hermione, Ron, and Harry took a seat near the back of the classroom. Snape strode in minutes later, his long robes billowing out behind him and his voice cutting through the thick tension that was rolling off of the many students.

"Welcome back, you slimy children." He drawled. "Today we will be reviewing a simple potion that even the most…unintelligent of you lot should be able to do." He glared at Harry as he said this. "We will be making a fever reducer and should you succeed, it will be given to Madam Pomfrey for her use. If you fail, you will be punished appropriately. Begin!" the ingredients appeared on the board and the three set off to work. Ron almost messed up cutting the unicorn grass and Hermione kept hissing at him to stop being so careless. Harry gently stoked the fire underneath the cauldron with his wand, letting the small flames grow. The liquid within began to bubble thickly. Hermione continued adding little tidbits of ingredients into the cauldron and Harry became aware of Snape lingering behind him.

"Roll your sleeves up, Potter, unless you wish to catch on fire." The Potions master snapped. Harry froze. He had not expected this at all.

"Yes sir." He said, hoping that saying that would make Snape leave. But he continued to stand there so Harry rolled his left sleeve up slowly.

"Are you trying to take all day or do you just not know how to roll up your own sleeves?" Snape spat. Harry gulped and proceeded to lift his right sleeve. His heart was thundering in his ears as he frantically tried to come up with an excuse for what had caused the bruise. Just as the first two fingers became visible, a loud explosion rocked the room and Harry had never been so glad to be in the same class as Neville. With a loud sigh of relief, Harry let his sleeve drop. As Snape left to yell at Neville, Harry heard him thunder out,

"Detention tonight Potter, at eight sharp. You obviously need a lesson on sleeve rolling."

Harry cringed. The bell rang and he was free to go. Ron was trying to get Harry riled up by insulting Snape, but Harry was too worried to really do much except agree with his friend. When they reached the common room, Harry escaped to the bathroom with his wand. He decided to try out some glamour charms and see if he could hide the bruise from Snape, provided he really would make Harry have a lesson in sleeve rolling. Eventually, he found one that was able to cover his bruises. With a sigh of relief, he joined his fellow students in the great hall for dinner. After they all ate, he headed to the dungeons, nerves tingling with anticipation and fear.

SNAPE POV

The first thing Snape noticed was the glamour charm. Harry had walked into his room, a smug look on his face and Snape could see it. Only adept wizards were able to see such a thing, and Snape could tell he had one on as if Harry had written it on his forehead. Snape frowned nastily, wondering why the golden boy would do such a thing. What was he trying to hide? Or who was he trying to impress? That must be it, Snape reasoned. The boy wants to try to impress someone so he made himself look better with the charm. It took every bit of willpower to stop himself from laughing. The golden boy, trying to impress someone and using a glamour charm. As if he really needed such a thing to get attention. Snape strode over to the boy, facing him, no more than three feet away.

"Alright, Potter. Since you obviously have no idea how to roll up your sleeves, you will learn now. Roll them up." He stared as Harry rolled up his left sleeve first. When it reached past his elbow, he hesitated for a long moment. Snape glowered at Harry and Harry swallowed, moving on to the next arm, praying his glamour charm would work. He rolled up this sleeve much slower than the first, and let out a small sigh of relief when he couldn't see the bruise. Snape noticed this little sound and shifted his feet.

"Do it again, quicker this time." He commanded. The boy muttered a "yes sir" and dropped his sleeves. He again started on the left side. Snape began to think that maybe there was something he was trying to hide on his arm. He boy still hesitated a little bit when he moved just above the wrist and again sighed in relief when he got past a certain point. Snape also noticed how he always started with the other side.

"One more time, Potter." He said. This time he raised his wand and dropped the concealing spell. "And this time without the glamour charm." Snape noticed how the boy paled and his breathing shortened. Potter looked up at him with wide eyes.

"W-what glamour charm, sir?" he queried, trying to act unknowledgeable about it.

"You know what I am talking about, boy."

Harry took a deep breath and willed himself not to cry. He would think of something. So he slowly lifted his left sleeve. He paused when he got to his right. Snape noticed how the boy's hand was shaking slightly. Harry lifted the sleeve up and his bare arm was now visible to his most hated teacher. And so was his secret.

Snape had to stop himself from cringing when he saw an all-too familiar sight on the boy's arm. Dark purple bruises in the shape of a hand were visible right above the wrist. They were starting to fade, but it was obvious that they were made by a very large and very adult hand. Harry looked down at his feet and tried to hide his arm by pushing it into his side. Snape reached out and grabbed it, gently, but with enough conviction to make the child flinch away slightly, as if an automatic reflex were triggered. He made note of this as he brought the arm closer to his face. As he turned it over in his hands, Snape asked the boy,

"How did this happen, Potter?" Even though it was entirely obvious.

"I…I fell sir. And…And I…was grabbed by Ron. He helped me up."

It was a terrible attempt at a lie. Snape could tell even without Legillimency. Ron's hands were tiny. This was an adult's marking.

"I know you lie." Snape hissed dangerously. "Who?"

The boy looked so frightened; Snape softened his face just a little in the hopes that it would calm him. To his surprise, Harry jerked his arm away from Snape's grasp. And Snape was surprised, really. In the Slytherin house, abuse was not uncommon. He knew what these types of markings meant because it wasn't unusual to find a Slytherin here and there with nasty bruises or cuts from the family supposed to care for the child. The Slytherins mostly became were in that house because a Slytherin personality usually resulted from abuse. Occasionally, a Hufflepuff would be found suffering with such a thing, or a Ravenclaw or two, but never a Gryffindor, let alone the Golden boy himself.

Snape watched, in almost fascination the way the boy reacted. He was angry. Potter straightened up and tried to become level with Snape's eyes. Snape noted that this must be his way of dealing with it, of hiding it. He had triggered his protection mode.

"No one. It was an accident." Harry growled at his most hated teacher who had now found out his most hated secret. The boy stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Snape said nothing at all, for what was he to say?

HARRY POV

Harry sunk down the wall in one of the deserted hallways and buried his face in his hands. He was surely in trouble now, for disrespecting a teacher and leaving detention. And for letting his secret out. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing. Harry took a shaky breath and started at his arm.

Snape knew.

He knew Harry's deepest secret.

He'd probably tell the Slytherins, who would be laughing at his expense. Or worse, Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore would only be able to look upon him with pity. Pity was worse than ridicule.

As upset and embarrassed Harry was about the situation, he still couldn't help feeling the strangest thing: relief. He at least didn't have to hide it any longer, even if it was from one person. And now that he thought on it, Snape didn't have pity in his eyes. It was more like anger. Anger was so much better than pity.

SNAPE POV

So anger it was. Snape was very angry; not at Harry, no, but at who did it. Even though he was supposed to dislike the boy, he couldn't help but relate to him and his situation. Snape had suffered much abuse at the hands of his father, and still suffered from the effects of it all this time later. Not to mention all of the students he had helped through such a thing. He wanted to help Potter. Make him better so that Snape could go back to hating him. Then everything would be normal and the boy would be okay. Lilly's boy. Oh, she would be really upset if she knew this was happening to her own son. Snape decided not to tell anyone unless the boy consented; after all, he had not consented to Snape discovering it and it was not fair to him. The boy needed to feel like he had control over the situation so that he would be able to heal. But only some control. Snape would help him in any way he saw fit.

Looking around his secret potions store, he found what he was looking for. A small, creamy potion that was formulated special for bruises. Tucking it into his robes, he stalked out of the dungeons and into the large corridors of Hogwarts School, in search of Harry Potter.

Snape didn't have to look far. Harry had slid into an abandoned corridor that was often unused by students and was sitting down, back to the wall and head in his hands. Snape could see the bruise on his arm. Approaching as quietly as he could, he knelt down next to the boy. Either he hadn't heard him, or he had no intention of acknowledging his professor's presence, because the boy did not stir. At least it was better than having the boy flee.

He took the vial out of his robes and uncorked the top. At this sound, Harry looked up, the remnants of tears evident in his emerald eyes.

"What do you want?" He demanded.

"Do not address your professor in such a manner." Snape growled at the boy. "Give me your arm."

Harry hesitated.

"I will not repeat myself, Potter. Do as I say."

With obvious reluctance and dread, Harry lifted his arm. To his surprise, Snape took his arm very gently. Then, he started putting something strange on his bruise. He began to pull away, very startled. Snape peered upwards at him and met his eyes, his fingers hovering over the dark purple marks. For once, Harry saw something other than malice. He relaxed his arm slowly, and without a word, his professor spread the cream on his bruise. It faded instantly. When he was done, Harry turned his arm over, examining it.

"What is that stuff?" He said to break the silence. "Sir?"

"It's my special formula. Just for bruises, as you can obviously see." Snape drawled. He was still on his knees at Harry's side. "Show me the others."

Harry froze.

"Others? I have no others; like I said, when I fell, Ron grabbed me."

"And like I said, _do not __lie__ to me, _boy_!"_

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head on the wall, swallowing hard.

"Sir, please. Don't do this to me." He pleaded.

But Snape was not going to give up. He took out his wand and waved it over the boy. The diagnostic spell produced a piece of parchment that read what other injuries Harry had. There was a detailed drawing as well of the long gashes on his back and a short description of how the injuries came to be. Snape studied it and Harry noticed that he raised an eyebrow.

"Stand up." Snape commanded. Harry knew he was cornered. He had no way out now.

So Harry stood up and followed Snape back into the classroom where Snape promptly shut the door behind him.

When he turned around to face Harry, he was taken aback by the tears cascading down the child's cheeks.

"D-don't tell anyone?" he both asked and stated. Snape curtly nodded.

"It is not for me to tell. That is for you to do, if you wish to do so."

Harry sighed in relief and the tears stopped flowing.

"Let me see your injuries." Snape said softly.

Harry took off his robes and unbuttoned his shirt. He gently took it off, trying not to hurt his back. Snape stared, a seemingly indifferent expression on his face as the various purple marks made a grand appearance. His thoughts were not so calm and collected, however. Actually seeing it, not on parchment, made him very angry as to who would do something like this to a child. He did not allow his anger to show through though, and walked forward with the cream, carefully spreading it on the yellowing mark lining the boy's collarbone. He then proceeded to clean the cuts on his back and making nasty bruising around them disappear. As soon as the cuts started disappearing, Harry sighed in relief, the pain fading. There were really light scars where the marks had been; unfortunately the cream didn't work on scars.

Snape put the cork back in the vial and put it back into his robes. Harry slowly put on his shirt and his robes. He looked down at the floor, facing his professor and shuffling his feet slightly. Snape heard him mumble something he didn't understand.

"Speak up, boy." He said.

"Th-thank you sir." Harry said louder.

Snape was a bit shocked and barely managed to say "You're welcome." There was a long silence.

"I know it was your uncle."

Harry nodded.

"Does this happen often?"

Harry nodded again. He couldn't seem to look Snape in the eyes.

"I know I cannot make you tell anyone, but I will advise you that it would be best to inform the Headmaster of this…unfortunate situation."

"I would prefer not to, sir." Harry said quietly.

"Very well then. But provided you need anything, please do not hesitate to see me. My doors will remain open for your presence at any hour if you are experiencing an emergency of some sort. If it is not an emergency, you may come between classes or evenings and weekends."

"Yes sir, thank you very much sir." Harry said, floored at this change in his hated professor's demeanor.

"Now, I believe you must need to be getting back to your dorm."

Snape held out the vial of bruise cream.

"Just in case you…_fall _again." He whispered.

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say and proceeded to leave the dungeon. He felt as though he were walking through a fog, not quite believing what had just happened. He suddenly realized how tired he was and just managed to make it to his bed before he fell over in exhaustion. For the first time since he came to Hogwarts, he slept without a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry awoke early the following morning to his daily routine of showering, it took him a moment to remember that he no longer had nasty bruises that he had to hide. With a nice stretch, he laid back down on his pillow and started at the ceiling, thinking of what had happened the night before. He just couldn't seem to understand why Snape had acted like that. Snape was supposed to hate Harry Potter! Harry rolled over and peered at Ron's bed. Ron would be floored if he knew about how Snape had acted almost as if he…cared. Like he cared if Harry was in pain. And he also said that he would be there if Harry needed anything. Harry brooded over this and wondered that if he actually went to Snape, would he help him? Listen to him? Be there?

Harry snorted at that thought. No, there was no way. But a thought kept nagging at his mind, the memory of how gently Snape healed him. Maybe Snape wasn't really mean all the time; maybe he only acted like it to scare people and keep an orderly class. Perhaps there was another side to his hated teacher.

Even if there was another side to Snape, he vowed that he wouldn't go crying to him just because he needed to talk. Yes, Snape had shown that he could be nice, but how did Harry really know he would say nothing? After all, the man had never done anything nice to him before. And anyways, Harry wasn't sure if could talk about it. About how no adult had ever really treated him nicely. How he was always hurt, or blamed, or starved. What would telling Snape do for him anyway? At that thought, Ron began to stir, and Harry got to his feet to get ready for breakfast.

SNAPE POV

Snape was seated at the head table for breakfast, in his usual seat near the edge so that he could move his arms freely and not have to worry about bumping elbows. The staff table was rather cramped for such a large one and being too cramped aggravated Snape. This morning was like any other, with students filing in by the group and sitting at their tables, the staff all chattering away, adding to the din of the whole hall. Snape studied the Gryffindor table. Harry had just walked in, with an unsteady pace as if he were unsure of himself. He saw the boy glance up to Snape's table. For a moment, they made eye contact, but then the boy looked down at his feet with embarrassment and sat down with his friends. He understood completely why the boy was embarrassed. But Snape had hoped he wouldn't avoid him. He should have expected as much. Snape had done the same thing when Dumbledore found out about his home life.

HARRY POV

Harry sat down next to Ron with Hermione across from the two. Breakfast consisted of eggs and toast, large mounds of bacon and cheese to top many of the other unidentifiable, but delicious looking foods. Pumpkin juice was everywhere as well. Harry drained his goblet before starting on the bacon. But he didn't have too much of an appetite. He was rather embarrassed to be in Snape's presence after last night. And suddenly another thought occurred to Harry. His professor had seen him crying! He dropped his bacon into the large pitcher of pumpkin juice and Ron groaned. Harry felt eyes on his back so he snuck another glance at Snape who was watching him. He looked away again and cleaned up the mess. Harry wondered if he'd ever be able to face Snape again.

As the trio left the great hall, they went into their daily routine of classes. Thankfully, Potions wasn't until tomorrow, so Harry got a break. But he was dreading the next day.

Nighttime slowly crept over the school and the students all scurried into their dorms to sleep. Harry lay in his bed, awake, Ron snoring away in the bed next to him. He slowly closed his eyes…

_Uncle Vernon had him by the arm. _

_ "Come on, boy, get up you lazy little git! Next time you burn our food will be your absolute last! I have had it with you never doing anything up to par! It's that nasty school of yours, eh boy? They aren't teaching you like I can!"_

_ Vernon took off his belt and threw Harry face-first against the wall. Harry knew better than to cry out. That only made the pain worse, anyway. He instead imagined he was in a different place, playing Quidditch. It didn't last long, though. The pain brought him back to reality. Harry was getting no mercy tonight. When the twelfth whack ensued, Vernon stopped and whirled the boy to meet his face. He snarled a few things that Harry tuned out and slapped him on the cheek. Harry slowly sank to the floor as the man took a grip on his arms. They were cracking, he knew it. Then, suddenly, he saw a figure behind his uncle. He was cloaked in black, two curtains of black hair encasing a pale face. Harry's vision was going blurry, but he knew he'd be fine. Snape was there, after all. He would heal him again. Right? As the cupboard door shut on him, Harry blacked out._

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. Rubbing his wrists, he looked around. No one had awoken. Harry untwisted the covers from his feet and shakily stood up. A wave of dizziness nearly took him out, and he tried to blink away the spots in his vision. Something was wrong. Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to get the dizziness under control. He felt a bit feverish and wondered if he should go to the hospital wing. Wiping some of the sweat from his forehead, he decided to go on up and see what was wrong.

The hallways were quiet and moonlight lit the long trek Harry had to take. When he neared the staircase by the astronomy tower, he decided to go up it to get some fresh air. Perhaps that would make him feel better. He was still very hot and sticky and the dream he had was making the walls feel like they were closing in on him. He reached the top and a light flickering across the flat made him stop. A small torch was lit on the far end, and a figure was standing right next to it, peering off the edge into the sky. Harry froze and for a moment wondered if the figure had heard him. After no movement was visible, Harry slowly began to walk backwards and out. He didn't make it far.

"Stop. Do not move." A familiar voice rang out. It was coming from the figure. He turned around. Snape was right in front of him. His expression was unreadable, but it looked a lot like anger. He briefly wondered why the man was here, on the tower at night. That thought was quickly dismissed as Harry realized he was going to get it now, sneaking into the astronomy tower at night. As Snape strode forward, Harry turned over many excuses in his head, but none seemed to fit. He was stuck with the truth.

"What are you doing after curfew, sneaking around on the astronomy tower at one in the morning Mr. Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry sir, I came up to get some fresh air."

Snape raised his eyebrow.

"You couldn't open a window in your dorm?"

"Yes sir, but I was going to the hospital wing because I woke up from a bad dream unwell and on the way I needed some fresh air. I'm kind of dizzy." He admitted, cringing internally at the fact that he let slip he had a bad dream.

Snape actually looked a little concerned. And to Harry's utter surprise, he laid his cool hand on his forehead. It felt nice, something cool on his sweaty face. He was actually disappointed when the hand left.

"You've got a fever, Mr. Potter."

"I know, sir. That's why I was going to the hospital wing."

"Five points from Gryffindor for sneaking up to the tower after curfew. Now we're going to see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry was actually relieved that he only had five points taken. Sneaking out like this would usually have much more consequence than that. Usually a week's worth of detentions and more like fifty points.

Harry followed Snape out as his black robes billowed out behind him. He kept up easily with the man's pace and Harry couldn't help but wonder why Snape was still being so nice. He ran his hands along the stone walls of the castle and for some reason, felt entirely relaxed in this situation, even though he felt really sick. The dream he had was bothering him, and Snape said he could talk to him whenever he needed, right? Maybe it was the fever talking, but Harry started to say something. He quickly stopped, reason catching up to him.

SNAPE POV

Snape couldn't sleep. It was like any other night for him; restless and pointless. He decided to go to his old haunt, the astronomy tower. Seeing the stars and breathing in the fresh air around him always helped. So Snape slipped on his robes and like a shadow, exited his cold dungeon for the warm breezes of the astronomy tower.

It was empty as usual, and Snape lit one torch for a small amount of light. After studying the stars in the navy blue sky, he looked down at the flickering light of the torch. Tiny moths were swirling around it along with little flies. Snape watched as they chased one another, completely free. He so wished he were free like these little creatures, to be able to fly away all burdens. One of the moths left the light and fluttered away into the darkness. Leaning on the edge of the tower, Snape looked into the sky, searching out constellations.

Suddenly there was a shuffling sound behind him. Snape stood completely still.

"Stop. Do not move." He commanded. He heard no movement so he approached the boy. It was Harry. Snape wasn't at all surprised, as the boy was known to be out after curfew. The boy turned around and emerald eyes met his. They were a little dazed looking and Snape decided to find out why the boy was here before making any accusations. He had been wrong about him before, after all, when he wouldn't roll up his sleeves.

"What are you doing after curfew, sneaking around on the astronomy tower at one in the morning Mr. Potter?"

The boy looked very nervous, and said,

"I'm sorry sir, I came up to get some fresh air."

This was sort of odd to Snape. Why would a student come all the way here just for fresh air? Then again, Snape was guilty of the same thing.

"You couldn't open a window in your dorm?"

"Yes sir, but I was going to the hospital wing because I woke up from a bad dream unwell and on the way I needed some fresh air. I'm kind of dizzy."

Snape took in the boy's face. He hadn't paid much attention before, but now he noticed how pale the boy was. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead which his hair was sticking to and his cheeks were rosy with fever. He did something that surprised the both of them; he reached out and felt the boy's burning forehead. Snape noticed how the boy seemed to appreciate the coolness of his hand.

"You've got a fever, Mr. Potter."

"I know, sir. That's why I was going to the hospital wing."

Snape knew Harry had to be feeling fairly awful, so he let him off easy.

"Five points from Gryffindor for sneaking up to the tower after curfew. Now we're going to see Madam Pomfrey."

Snape turned down to the staircase and let the boy follow him into the corridors. Then they were walking side by side. Snape walked a little slower than usual, for the boy didn't need the extra exertion. He couldn't help but think about how he always seemed to be wrong about Harry Potter. He wasn't at all like the man he resembled. No, he was like his mother, Snape mused. His eyes flitted over to the boy when he thought he started to say something. Snape noticed that his mouth quickly shut, and he clamped his lips together in a grimace. What had he been trying to say?

"What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing, sir." Harry answered. They continued to walk along in silence, the only sound being the rustle of Snape's robes and their echoing footsteps.

"You know, I was being serious." Snape said, startling even himself.

"About what?" Harry asked.

"If you have something you need to talk about I will listen."

He noticed how the boy looked quizzically at him.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. It is not for me to tell." Snape figured the boy didn't trust him and that was why he wouldn't say anything. It was quiet for a long moment, and he barely heard it, but the boy whispered,

"I'm not sure if I know _how_ to talk about it."

Snape didn't answer, for they had reached the doors to the hospital wing. He opened them gently and led the boy to one of the empty beds. There were seven other students asleep in the wing, so he made sure to be quiet. He motioned for the boy to sit on the edge of the clean sheets and Harry did. Snape lit a dim candle next to the bed, and remembering what the boy said earlier about fresh air, he opened the window just a crack nearest him so a cool breeze filtered over him. He then turned to the cabinet by the doors and wondered when he, Severus Snape, started to care for Harry Potter.

When Snape stopped searching through the cabinet and came towards Harry, Harry asked,

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"I don't wish to wake her; as you can see, she has many other students she's been tending too."

Harry nodded and Snape held out a small stick of glass.

"Put this under your tongue and hold it there."

Harry opened his mouth and Snape placed it in. Closing it, he observed Snape. The man had shown, for the second time, how kind he could be. It was strange to think that he was here, at two in the morning caring for an ill Harry who he was supposed to hate. Snape was moving about in the cabinet again and came back with a small vial of clear liquid. He placed it on the stand by the bed and moved back to Harry.

"Does your throat hurt?" He asked. Harry shook his head. "Stomach?" Harry shrugged. His stomach didn't hurt exactly, but it felt a little odd. Like he drank too much butterbeer.

Snape took out the thermometer and looked at it for a moment.

"Your temperature is 102.8. I don't want you attending any classes tomorrow. I will bring you the work you need for my class and until you have no fever, you will not go back to your dorms. It seems as though you have the flu."

He then proceeded to put the thermometer back to where he found it. Snape picked up the vial of clear liquid and held it to Harry's lips. It was very sweet; a fever reducer. He was then instructed to lie down, and Snape pulled the covers over Harry. Harry sighed in relief at being able to relax, and fell asleep almost instantly. It was nice to feel cared for.

When Snape saw that the boy was asleep, he left a note for the medi-witch, in case she woke up and saw Potter. Then, he left the hospital wing to inform Minerva that her student would be absent from her dorms. When he reached her room, it was now three in the morning. He briefly wondered if he should wait until dawn to notify her, but then decided it would be much more entertaining to wake up his colleague.

Snape straightened his back and knocked; one hand behind his back. He got no answer, so he knocked again, this time much louder and longer. Suddenly, the door swung open and a very angry Minerva appeared.

"Severus! It is three in the morning! I have classes to teach tomorrow! What in the world do you want?!"

"I came to inform you that Mr. Potter has fallen ill and will be staying in the hospital wing for a few days at least."

Minerva visibly softened and she opened the door all the way.

"What happened? Is he alright?" she asked.

Snape nodded.

"I found him wandering up to the astronomy tower, trying to get some fresh air; I believe that was what he said, and he was burning up with fever. So I took him to the hospital wing. The boy will be fine with some rest, Minerva."

She sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Severus. You know, you really are kind sometimes." She smiled. Snape frowned as she shut the door.

Snape? Kind? He laughed to himself as he walked back to the hospital wing. Harry would need a few more potions when he woke up.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry's dreams were fairly strange. They weren't very clear though, as most tended to be when he wasn't well. He was drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep when he saw a figure hovering over his bed. Harry thought it must have been Madam Pomfrey, because he was feeling a little sick. No, he felt awful. Like he had been lying on a fire. Harry tried to push away the blankets covering him. A voice said something, but Harry couldn't understand it; everything sounded like he was underwater. The blankets he had managed to push off went right back on.

"Too hot. I'm burning." He moaned.

Then he felt a strong arm behind his back pull him into a sitting position. Something cool pressed against his lips and Harry swallowed the cool, sweet liquid flowing over his tongue. He relaxed as some of the heat left his body and was laid back down by the arm.

"Feels better…" he trailed off, sighing. Sleep took him again.

_Harry was lying in the cupboard. As he slowly sat up, he felt pain sear through his body. Uncle Vernon must have thrashed him again. His stomach was throbbing as if he had been kicked and his breathing was shortened. Harry shifted over so that he could lean on the wall and held his stomach as the pain slowly went away. At least it was over, he thought to himself. But then a sound upstairs made him freeze. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. Little tidbits of dirt came from the cracks of the steps as a heavy man made his way down. The sound stopped in front of his cupboard. The knob turned, and light filtered in._

_ "Well well. If it isn't the ungrateful little brat. I thought you learned your lesson last night, but it seems as if you haven't quite done so yet. See, you should have been awake by now; there's a list of chores waiting on the fridge. But, since no effort has been made to finish them, you must need another lesson."_

_ Harry tried to fight it, but Vernon had him by the ankles. He kicked and thrashed, but the man kept pulling. The pain in his stomach doubled and he almost screamed. _

_ "Potter! _Potter!"

Harry sat upright, fighting the arms trying to bind him.

"No! Let go of me! Stop it! It hurts! _It hurts!_"

The hands let go and Harry stopped thrashing to look around, breathing heavily. Snape was standing right next to him, his hands held up as if he needed to grab the boy at any moment. Harry was shaking and his heart thundered in his ears. He remembered. He was in the hospital wing, because he was ill. Snape had taken him.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Snape asked softly.

Harry nodded, taking a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry sir. It was just a dream." Harry said.

Snape looked at him questioningly.

"_Just_ a dream? That was more like a nightmare."

Harry paused and then said,

"Yeah. I suppose so." He looked down, away from Snape's gaze.

It was starting to get a little brighter outside, so it must have been almost six in the morning. Harry looked over to the window by his bed and saw that it was slightly open. He tried to remember. Did Snape open it?

"It was my uncle." He whispered, twiddling his thumbs together.

Snape said nothing. Harry looked back up to the black gaze.

"He tried to hurt me again." He swallowed thickly, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to get the fear under control. After a few long moments, he opened them again and laid back down onto the bed.

"It was just a dream, though." He murmured.

"Was the dream based on something real?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah. It really happened."

He closed his eyes again and savored the silence. It was actually nice talking to Snape like this. He didn't try to pry, he just listened. And Harry was glad that someone would actually listen to him for once. His eyes fluttered open again when he felt something cool on his forehead and saw Snape laying a washcloth on it. Harry sighed. It felt good.

"You're still burning up, Potter. That fever reducer didn't have much effect." Snape said. "You're just going to have to fight this one naturally, it seems."

Just then, Madam Pomfrey entered the room, yawning. When she saw Snape and Harry, she stopped suddenly.

"My, my! What is this?"

She scurried over to Harry's side.

"What happened, Severus?" she asked, shoving a thermometer in Harry's mouth.

"He wasn't well last night so I took him up here." He said with a bored tone.

"Well, why did you not wake me?!"

The medi-witch looked pretty angry at Snape.

"I did not find it necessary, Poppy. I had the situation perfectly under control."

He was examining his wand as he said this, seeming completely uninterested with the conversation.

"I'm pretty sure he's got the flu, he's been running a fever of 102. I managed to drop it barely with fever reducers, but they've had hardly any effect. The boy's just going to have to wait it out."

Snape got up from the chair he had been sitting in.

"I've got classes to teach. I must be going."

With that, the man strode out of the room, his robes billowing out behind him like usual. Harry returned his gaze to Madam Pomfrey, briefly wishing Snape would stay. And wondering if he had stayed all night. Harry could recall a blurry memory of someone giving him a fever reducer during the night. If Madam Pomfrey didn't know Harry was there, then it must have been Snape. She was standing with her hands on her hips as she watched the doors close. She shook her head and tut-tutted a little before removing the thermometer from Harry's mouth. This produced another spell of tut-tutting from her and she instructed Harry not to get up, or else. She gave him another fever reducer and told him to rest for the day before turning to the other patients in the wing. Harry turned on his side and let the cool breeze of the window flow over him.

SNAPE POV

Snape had stayed with Harry through the remainder of the night. The boy's fever had spiked up again at some point and Snape had to give him another fever reducer. As he sat by the little boy with emerald eyes, he thought about what his life was like at this age. Snape often came to school covered in bruises and that just added to the teasing. Was Harry teased? He wondered. He must have been, for the most popular people are also the most ridiculed. The boy looked so peaceful when he slept, and only added on to the argument that he was nothing like his father.

When Harry woke up from the nightmare, Snape was not at all surprised. He had suffered from nightmares often stemming from the abuse. But what he was surprised about was how Harry had started to talk about it some. It was almost a relief to him to know that the boy was maybe beginning to trust him; that he could get the help he needed. Then Madam Pomfrey had entered, and Snape was irritated that the medi-witch had come in at that moment. Perhaps Harry would have told him a bit more? Snape shook his head at that thought. He was walking down to his quarters and had finally reached the door. Opening it, Snape breathed in the familiar smell of his rooms and changed his robes for breakfast.

The great hall was filled to the brim with students like every morning. Snape noticed that Hermione and Ron were missing and he briefly wondered if they skipped breakfast to visit Harry. They were quite loyal friends. Snape wished he had friends like that while he was in school.

This particular morning, Minerva sat beside Snape and he groaned inwardly.

"Good morning, Severus." She said. Snape nodded towards her in acknowledgement.

"I trust Harry is doing well this morning?" He nodded again, and avoided eye contact, hoping the nosy Gryffindor would leave him alone. She wouldn't.

"You know, his friends were really worried about him and they rushed right up to the hospital wing as soon as I told them. They really are good to him." Snape almost smiled. They had gone to visit him. But he kept his calm composure and continued trying to get rid of the woman. She talked on a little more about a few things and Snape tried his best to tune her out. His thoughts traveled back to his potions closet that needed desperate attention and organization. It had been forever since he cleaned it out.

"Severus! Are you even trying to listen to me?" She suddenly snapped.

Snape looked at her for a long moment.

"Not particularly." He drawled, looking away again. She rolled her eyes.

"Typical man." She muttered. Finally, she turned to her breakfast.

Breakfast was uneventful, and Snape found himself in his dungeons once more, setting up the cauldrons for the next class. When everything was set, he found himself with nothing to do, so he went to organize his potions closet. Vials of vastly varying liquids were stacked up to the tall ceiling. It was a daunting task, but it needed to be done. As he mindlessly sorted all the potions into their proper spots, he came across a very strong fever reducer he had brewed a few years before for Madam Pomfrey when there was an outbreak of wizard's flu at the school. He looked at it for a moment, and upon hearing voices in the hallway, hastily shoved it into his robes and emerged into the classroom to teach.

HARRY POV

After Snape left, Harry had just begun to fall asleep when the doors to the infirmary banged open and Ron came running in, Hermione in tow.

"Harry! What happened?" He exploded, now at Harry's bedside, gasping for breath. The boy looked as though he ran the whole way. His face was almost as red as his hair.

"Professor McGonagall told us you weren't well and you were sent to the infirmary." Hermione said, obviously more composed than Ron.

"Yeah, but I'm alright." Harry said.

By this time, Madam Pomfrey had made an appearance.

"OUT! Both of you, OUT! If you're going to make such a ruckus and disturb all of my patients, you may NOT stay!" she tried shooing them off with her wand, but they just stepped out of her way.

"Sorry Madam, we were just a bit too eager I suppose. I promise we will settle down." Hermione said.

She looked at the two suspiciously, and then said,

"Well, if I hear one loud noise from you lot, I will send you out faster than you can say Quidditch!"

She strode away and Ron giggled.

"She sounds like my mum."

Harry smiled.

"We've brought you some food from the kitchens. We decided to skip breakfast and have it here with you so you wouldn't feel left out." Hermione said.

"Thanks guys, I really appreciate it." Harry said. All of them grinned together and Ron presented the plates of pancakes for everyone. They chatted over the pancakes, which were delicious, and after a little while, they had to go to class. They reluctantly left the hospital wing and Harry was in quite a good mood. His fever was still very high though, and Madam Pomfrey hovered around him for a good long time.

Eventually, she went to tend the other students and Harry read his books for the classes he was missing that day. After reading four chapters of magical history, Harry dozed off and slept for some time. But it didn't seem long before he was awoken by a strong hand on his shoulder. In his half-conscious state, Harry started and screamed "No!" fearing it was his uncle. He opened his eyes and saw Snape standing over him, a curious expression on his face.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to catch his breath. "Startled me is all."

Snape raised his eyebrows and pulled a vial out of his robes.

"I brought you a stronger fever reducer. It might help better than the traditional ones." He said, putting the vial to Harry's lips.

It was even sweeter than the normal fever reducers and Harry swallowed it easily. Immediately, he felt some of the fever leave his body.

"Wow, that one was a lot better!" he said. "Thanks, sir."

Snape nodded.

"You are excused from all class assignments for today." He said, sitting down in the chair next to Harry. Snape looked around the room, seeing Madam Pomfrey at the other side, tending a student that had just come in with a severely broken bone from a broom accident. He looked back at the boy.

"Even though you are excused, I'd still like you to look at your potions book and study some."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'd also like to ask you a question. You will not be required to answer if you prefer."

Harry stilled, wondering what Snape was going to ask him and having a dreadful feeling he knew.

"In your sleep last night, you kept saying something about a cupboard. I was curious to know, what was the role of the cupboard in your dream?"

Harry held his breath for a moment. He didn't want to tell, not yet. He wasn't ready to say the cupboard was where he lived.

"I…" He started. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet." Harry clasped his hands together in his lap nervously, avoiding Snape's gaze once more, watching Madam Pomfrey work on the student across the room.

"Alright. When you are ready, I'll be too." Snape paused, watching him for a moment. He then got up, nodded toward Harry, and went to leave the hospital wing.

"Wait!" Harry said suddenly. Snape turned around.

"Um…Thanks. For worrying." Harry turned away shyly and heard nothing. Then the steady sound of Snape's boots left the wing.

Harry felt a tear slide down his face and wiped it away in utter surprise. He was crying? He tucked his head between his knees to stifle the flow of tears. They weren't of sadness though.

For the first time ever, it seemed as though an adult actually seemed to care about Harry's silent suffering.

SNAPE POV

Snape was glad the fever reducer worked. The flush in the boy's cheeks faded some and he looked a lot better. He would be up in a day or so, provided Madam Pomfrey allowed him. She really could be a bother sometimes. Night was starting to fall, and Snape decided to skip dinner. He never really liked the great hall; too many people made him uncomfortable. So instead, he went for a walk on the grounds. The air was bitingly cold and the moon clear and bright, hanging in the navy blue sky, surrounded by thousands of stars. The grass was soft under Snape's boots, and it comforted him, being free like this. Sometimes the dungeons were claustrophobic in a sense, and Snape found himself yearning for the outside.

As he looked around, he thought of the coming Christmas break. In two weeks the students would be leaving for three weeks, and he would have the castle silent, to himself. Oh, there were a few children in each of the houses that would stay for the break, but not enough to cause Snape any trouble. While he thought this, suddenly another thought came to mind. Would Potter be going home for Christmas?


	4. Chapter 4

Harry woke up to Madam Pomfrey gently shaking his arm.

"Harry, I need to take your temperature again. It'll only be for a minute."

She coaxed the thermometer under his tongue and went to the boy in the bed next to him to do the same. The boy was a Slytherin, and relented furiously, only giving up when threatened with a body-bind spell. Eventually, she turned back to Harry and removed the thermometer from his mouth. She nodded approvingly.

"If your fever continues to drop like this, you can go back to your dorms by the morning. However, I will not have you overdoing yourself. If you start to feel the slightest bit off, come back and see me right away!"

Harry nodded, glad that he might get to leave in the morning. The hospital wing could be quite boring. He looked out the window next to him and studied the sky for a moment. There were many stars twinkling in the sky, but at the very tips of the trees, he could see clouds rolling in. He wondered briefly if there was going to be snow and then drifted off into a deep sleep.

The hospital wing seemed to be glowing when Harry woke up. Everything was extremely bright. Not in a cheery way, but the room seemed as though it were lit up with those bright lights that could only be found in a muggle hospital. He thought this strange, as Hogwarts had no electricity due to the interference of the magic. He sat up and fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses that Madam Pomfrey must've removed sometime during the night. Finding them, he placed them on his nose and looked around. Everything seemed normal, but the sky was a dull gray. It had snowed, and in fact, it was still snowing. Harry jumped from the bed and looked out the window. The grounds were covered in a deep blanket of twinkling white. Christmas was coming. Harry's mind was filled with cheery memories of the Hogwarts Christmases he had experienced since coming to the school. They were much better than the ones at the Dursley's, and this year Harry was actually looking forward to Christmas; another one not spent in that horrible place he was supposed to call "home."

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Good morning, Harry! How are you feeling this morning? Oh you look a great deal better!" Madam Pomfrey was bustling over, shoving the thermometer back in his mouth before he could even return the greeting.

She looked him over and nodded approvingly before turning to a Ravenclaw who had just walked in complaining of a headache. After giving her a potion and a lecture on eyestrain from studying too much, she removed the thermometer and smiled.

"You are free to go, Harry! But if you start feeling the slightest bit off again, come straight here, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am!" Harry said enthusiastically. He just really wanted to leave. The hospital wing was so boring sometimes.

Harry dressed in his robes and left the wing, heading towards the Gryffindor dorms. When he gave the portrait the password and entered, Hermione and Ron were up at the window, marveling at the beauty of the snow. They turned to him and both of their faces lit up with smiles at seeing him.

"Harry! You're better!" Hermione said before flinging herself into his arms. Harry flinched for a moment, not used to such contact, but relaxed when he remembered she was not like his uncle. He smiled and she let go of him, looking him over as Madam Pomfrey had.

"I'm glad you're back!" Ron said and they patted each other on the back in a greeting.

"We should head down to breakfast, I'm starving!" Harry said.

"Oh, I could eat a horse!" Ron proclaimed. They all laughed and proceeded out of the portrait hole and to the great hall. The hall was filled with students and good food, all themed for the wintry weather outside. There were snow cakes and snowflake juice all over. The magic ceiling was weeping the beautiful flakes, and the three Gryffindors found a spot on the table together. As Harry was helping himself to some of the beautiful cakes, he heard a voice behind him.

"I see you are doing better, Potter."

Harry whirled around to see Snape standing there, tall and intimidating. But for some reason, Harry was not as intimidated as he usually was.

"Yes sir." He answered. "Madam Pomfrey set me free this morning."

"Good." Snape drawled as he turned on his heel with a raise of the eyebrows in acknowledgement and headed to the head table.

Ron watched him go all the way up as if Snape was dancing in his underwear.

"He's acting frighteningly pleasant. He must be plotting something." Ron said suspiciously while continuing to give the hated teacher threatening looks.

Harry laughed, albeit a tad nervously and Hermione frowned.

"Ron, you mustn't be so judgmental. He's a professor, he most certainly is not plotting anything except perhaps the potions assignment for today."

"Oh, come on Hermione! Teachers aren't saints! They plot revenge just like everyone else."

Hermione crossed her arms.

"You truly are immature."

"I'm immature?"

"Yes, you are immature."

Harry rolled his eyes and finished his cakes, tuning out the bickering. Suddenly, Dumbledore got up on the podium and called for silence.

"As all of you know, Christmas break is coming up in less than two weeks. The sign-up sheets will be posted on your common room bulletin boards for those who are not going home for Christmas. Please sign up promptly and thank you for listening."

With that, he walked down and back to the head table. Harry turned back to his friends as the chatter in the hall erupted back to its previous state.

"Ron, are you staying here for Christmas with me?" Harry asked. The redhead nodded, his mouth filled with food.

"I've got to go home for break." Hermione chimed in. "My parents are going to visit my aunt and I'm going with them."

"That sounds fun." Harry said. Hermione nodded.

They all finished their breakfasts and went back to the dorms to gather the books they would need for Transfiguration and Charms. Halfway to class, Harry dropped his quill and when he bent down to get it, a shoe crushed it. He rose up to see none other than Draco Malfoy.

"What did you do that for?" Harry demanded angrily. "That was my last quill!"

"Oh, I'm sooooo sorry." Draco said sarcastically. Crabbe and Goyle, who were accompanying him laughed.

Harry glared at them and took out his wand and Draco mirrored him. He was fed up with the way people treated him. Draco only reminded him of Dudley who did similar things to his hand-me-down school supplies. Right before he started to cast the Jelly-legs curse, a hand wrapped around his wrist. He looked up to see right into the cold eyes of Filch.

"That will be ten points, Mr. Potter." The man sneered. He quickly turned to Draco. "Ten for you as well."

"But Mr. Filch, he started it!" Draco whined.

"I don't care!" Filch yelled. "Now get to class, the lot of you! I don't want to see your wands or your faces any time soon!"

Without hesitation, Harry quickly put away his wand and dashed off to Transfiguration with Ron and Hermione in tow. When they reached the classroom, Hermione pulled out her quill.

"Here, you can have this. You need it more than I do right now." She said.

"Thanks, Hermione, but don't you need one too?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head and held out the open pocket of her school bag. There were about twenty quills.

"Wow, you most certainly have a lot of them!" Harry exclaimed.

"Of course she does, the girl's a walking encyclopedia. Wouldn't want to miss a little piece of information by perhaps not having a spare quill to write with!" Ron teased.

Hermione glared at him and he laughed nervously, quickly entering the classroom. Harry and Hermione followed. They all chose a seat together in the middle desk and the head of Gryffindor entered the classroom, scolding the children who came in late.

SNAPE POV

Snape awoke to a world of white. With a groan of annoyance, he slid out of bed from another sleepless night and prepared for the upcoming school day. Donning his black robes, he headed out of the dungeons to check on his Slytherins. All was well, save for one fight between Draco and a little first year who thought the world revolved around him and his pureblood family. Snape solved it easily with a few threats of detention, and made everyone leave for breakfast. When the snakes were all gone, he himself made his way down to the great hall.

Upon entering the bright and cheery hall, Snape looked around to see if Potter was out of the hospital wing. He quickly saw the dark-haired little brat and scolded himself internally. Why did he care? This was James's child. Snape hated James. But something inside of him couldn't bring himself to actually hate the boy. His heart just wasn't in it. Harry was so much different than the obnoxious bully his father was. Snape tried not to let himself think this, but for some reason, his thoughts always turned back to that. After seeing those bruises, hate seemed like something the boy saw way too often. So before, he could stop himself, and even though his brain was yelling loudly to just walk away, Snape approached the boy.

"I see you are doing better, Potter."

Snape watched, amused, as the boy turned around in utter surprise. Bright green eyes met his. They were wide with surprise.

"Yes sir." He answered. "Madam Pomfrey set me free this morning."

Snape couldn't think what to say now; the Weasley boy was staring at him as if he had just sprouted another head, and Miss Granger almost looked…expectant. Like she knew he wasn't as hateful as he tried to make it seem. At this, Snape decided to end the conversation and put back his mask of indifference.

"Good." He said simply, in the most intimidation voice he could muster, and then raised his eyebrows, turned on his heel, and stalked up to the head table. As much as he hated to admit it, Snape was embarrassed. He had shown he wasn't entirely mean. Well, he had done so in front of Potter, but his friends, no. That was like taking it to a whole other level. The entire breakfast, Snape avoided his gaze, and right before Dumbledore got up to make the small speech, he left back to the dungeons. To set his nerves back into intimidation, he brewed a draught of the living dead, all the while thinking he needed to redeem his mean demeanor. He felt bare without it.

HARRY POV

Saturday was a Hogsmeade day.

Harry woke up Ron early so they could get ready. Hermione was right with them, and they quickly ate breakfast, heading straight to the carriages. Once in Hogsmeade, Harry headed straight to the supplies store to get some quills. Hermione helped him pick out four very nice ones and he decided to get a bottle of color changing ink as well. Ron dragged everyone to the candy shop, and Harry stocked up on chocolate frogs as Hermione muttered something about cavities. When they got back to Hogwarts, the three were so exhausted, they all collapsed on the couch in front of the fire.

"It's so cold outside!" Hermione exclaimed, as she brushed the snow from her hair.

"Tell me about it." Ron said. "At least we have some chocolate frogs!" He opened one up and broke it in half, giving one piece to Harry and pocketing the card.

Just then, Harry happened to glance at the bulletin board. The sign-up sheet for break was still there.

"Hey, we should probably sign up for the break if we want to stay." Harry said. Ron jumped up and grabbed a quill.

"Write my name please?" Harry asked. Ron nodded and scribbled both of their names in the new ink Harry had. Their names twinkled in different colors when Ron sat down.

"I really like that ink." He said.

Harry nodded in agreement. They all stayed in front of the fire until it grew dark outside, and the moon rose high above the grounds, reflecting off of the white carpet of snow. Hermione got up first and headed to her dorm to sleep, and Ron and Harry followed not to long afterwards. Harry settled down into his bed, exhaustion creeping up on him. In minutes, he was in a deep sleep.

The next morning was bright and sunny. The whole dorm was filled with light as the sun peeked over the treetops. Harry rose with a yawn and stretched. Ron was still fast asleep. He reached over for his glasses on the nightstand, and as he grabbed them, felt a piece of paper underneath. Frowning, he put them on and picked up the paper. It was a note from the headmaster.

"Harry,

Please come see me at nine in the morning.

Dumbledore"

Harry wondered what the headmaster wanted. Did he do something wrong? As he pondered it, a horrible thought began creeping up on him. Maybe Snape told him. About the Dursley's. But he had promised he wouldn't. Then again, Snape had always hated him, so maybe he was lying. As he argued with himself, Ron started to stir. Harry did not want to confront his friend right now, so he quickly got dressed and quietly escaped from the dorms. The note gripped in his hand, Harry decided to ask Snape. He walked out of the portrait hole, and headed down the long staircases down into the dungeons.

It took almost five minutes to get there. By the time Harry had reached the door to Snape's office, he began to question his motives. Should he really disturb the man this early in the morning for something he wasn't even sure of? Wouldn't he be angry? Before Harry could decide, he heard voices. Curious, Harry edged closer to the door and noticed it was open a crack. He bent down, and pushed it open, slowly, carefully, quietly. The room was aglow with green light from the floo. Harry could make out Snape's form and another person. Not sure who it was, he listened.

"Severus, you are not doing your job." A voice boomed out.

"Yes I am, Mr. Malfoy. It's just taking a bit longer than I'd hoped." Snape said.

Harry became rigid. This was Draco's father.

"My son is in need of protection. There are Dementors all around this school! He was even attacked by a Hippogriff! I hear that you have been coddling the Potter boy. Looking out for his welfare." The man accused.

"I have been looking after your boy. But I cannot be there every moment of the day." Snape paused. "As for the Potter boy, I couldn't care less about his welfare."

This hurt.

Harry almost stumbled backwards. Wasn't Snape the one who gave him bruise cream? Who said he would listen? Who helped him when he was ill? Harry couldn't stop listening now as Snape continued.

"I only see that he is fit because the Dark Lord doesn't want him dead before he encounters him."

It felt as though his uncle had slapped him again.

"Very well." Malfoy sneered. "I have not the time to argue. I have things to do. Just keep up the job, and step it up a pace. I don't want my boy dead before Potter."

The man stepped into the floo and the fire returned back to its previous color.

Harry couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot. He should have known better. Snape hated him. Hadn't he made it clear before? Ever since the day they met? But Harry had thought he was different. He thought…Snape cared. Betrayal surged through him and his eyes burned. He had never trusted an adult before. Harry should have known. He should have known! Suddenly the door was wrenched open and Snape stood before him, tall and intimidating. Harry looked up at him, tears cascading down his cheeks. The shock that held him there initially went away. The boy turned and raced down the hall, as far away from the dungeons as he could.

SNAPE POV

Oh, he had done it now.

Snape had just gotten rid of Malfoy when he noticed the light from the doorway. He was momentarily taken by anger. Someone had been eavesdropping on his conversation! Something like that should not be happening, for these were classified conversations. The students at Hogwarts were not supposed to know that he was a spy for Dumbledore, spying on Lord Voldemort. So in his fit of anger, Snape yanked open the door. He had thought it was one of his Slytherins, but boy, was he wrong. Potter stood there, a look of complete betrayal in those emerald eyes, tears flowing readily down his cheeks. Snape was so shocked that he couldn't think of what to say. Had the boy heard him? Of course he heard him. He wouldn't be crying like this if he hadn't. Potter bolted away, and Snape stood there, dumfounded. Surely…surely he wouldn't believe the things he said. Guilt crept over him. Potter had placed his trust in Snape. He confided, albeit not much, but he had confided in Snape that he was abused. He let Snape heal his bruises. Made him promise not to tell. And Snape had been careful not to betray the boy's confidences. He was abused enough. He didn't need any more betrayal, especially since he got it daily at his own home from his own relatives.

He almost went after the boy. But he decided then that he should let him calm down some before he went to him. It would be better that way, when the boy wasn't crying. By then the betrayal would become anger, and Snape was much better at dealing with anger than guilt.

So without much else to do, Snape headed to the Slytherins to make sure they were all up and ready for breakfast. There was nothing else he could do.


	5. Chapter 5

**HELLO! Thank you for reading and for the reviews! I have placed in a page break for the changes in point of view. Sorry about that, I didn't realize they hadn't transferred over when I copied and pasted! And by the way, I know he didn't have permission to go to Hogsmeade openly in the third book, but I'm kind of ignoring the storyline of the book for the most part:P Hooray for imagination! Thanks!**

Harry needed to be alone. He couldn't think of any place to be where no one would go except for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. At least there no one would think crying coming from a toilet unusual. So Harry locked himself in one of the stalls and let the tears fall. He could hear Myrtle in the stall next to him weeping. For a while, it stayed like this. Two beings weeping simultaneously. But then, Myrtle's curiosity got the better of her. Her spirit floated under the stall and her eyes met Harry's.

"What are you crying about?" Myrtle sniffed.

"None of your business." Harry snapped. "Go away, Myrtle."

The ghost did not give up and she floated up to face him, taking his head in her hands.

"I asked you a question. It is not kind to ignore a lady." She giggled. Harry was already irritated enough and stood up, meeting her height.

"And it's unkind to annoy someone who is obviously trying to be alone."

"Ooh, someone's angry." She challenged, floating over the toilet. Harry reached over and flushed it. Myrtle swirled down into the water and through the pipes. Sighing with relief that she was gone, he went to the sink to wash his face. Looking the mirror, he saw that his face was red and blotchy. It was so obvious that he had been crying. He leaned over the sink, letting the water drip from his nose and clenched his hands into fists. As if they could go any tighter.

As he was doing so, he remembered the paper in his hand. Harry unfolded the paper and lazily read over the words Dumbledore had written. By now, he didn't know what to think; why he was called up there. He had twenty minutes before he had to leave. He sunk down onto the floor, leaning against the wall, making sure to avoid any of the wet spots from Myrtle's tears. Hermione and Ron had to be wondering where he was by now. Funny, Harry didn't actually care. He didn't really care about much of anything. Everything hurt too much. But it was a different kind of hurt. Potions wouldn't heal this pain, this wrenching pain, twisting away at his heart. He cringed at the thought of potions.

Turning his head to the floor by the sinks, he noticed something shiny lying in a puddle. Reaching out, he picked up a piece of glass that had fallen from one of the broken mirrors. Harry recalled that this mirror was broken when he and Ron had attacked the troll that was after Hermione. In the pursuit of friendship, something broke. Kind of like how Harry felt right now. Broken. All he wanted was the pain to go away, and maybe, just maybe, if he made a different kind of pain, it could be redirected. It wouldn't be permanent relief, but he didn't care. Harry raised the glass and pressed the sharp point to the inside of his wrist. As the first drop of red welled up at the tip, Harry pulled it away. Wiping the blood on his robes, he tossed the glass across the bathroom. He didn't need any more scars. He had too many already.

The bell of the school chimed. Harry was late.

SNAPE POV

Snape took note that Harry did not appear for breakfast. He also silently noted that his friends were frantically searching the hall for him. The guilt he had managed to suppress earlier started to come back. Snape turned away, willing the feelings away. He had enough to worry about. Dumbledore had called a staff meeting at noon to discuss the handling of the students who were staying at Hogwarts over the break. He had to get his list together of Slytherins. So when breakfast ended, Snape headed back to the dungeons and herded his snakes up, asking each one if they were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. His list came to a total of nine students.

They were all the students he had found abused.

SNAPE POV

Harry cast a quick glamour charm on his face to hide the fact that he had been crying and then made his way grudgingly up to Dumbledore's office. He said the password and stepped on the spiral staircase as it made its way up to the main door. Harry knocked and almost instantly heard the headmaster say "Enter."

He walked in. Dumbledore sat at his desk, his hands folded in front of him.

"Welcome, Harry my boy!" he said happily. Harry plastered a fake smile on his face, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't see the false happiness.

"Good morning, sir." Harry said.

"Sit down, please, I must discuss something with you concerning Christmas."

Harry sat down in the chair facing Dumbledore.

"It has come to my attention that you have put your name down to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas, I am correct, am I not?" Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. Dread sunk through him.

"Well, I cannot allow this."

"Why not?" Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself.

"The wards, my boy. You simply do not have the safety here at school that you have at home. No one can enter to hurt you for sure there, while here, we have had many breaches of security. Sirius Black is after you, and I feel as though it would be best and safest if you return home."

"But…You can't. I mean…I…" Harry started. But he quickly shushed himself. Protesting would only lead to questions. Questions would lead to discovery. He had lived with the Dursley's all his life, surely he could do it for three weeks. Surely…

Dumbledore was looking at him expectantly.

"Yes sir." He said. It was ironic. The place he was safest was the place where he was the most hurt. Harry got up and with a meager "Goodbye" left the office with lead feet. Everything was going wrong.

Snape entered the meeting room with his list in his hands. There was only one seat left, and unfortunately was right next to Minerva. He took his seat and looked straight ahead, his paper right in front of him on the table.

"Good morning, Severus." She said. Snape groaned inwardly.

"Don't be such a grouch."

"I'm not a grouch." He growled.

"You are too a grouch. Say good morning and I will say you aren't one."

"Good…Morning." He spat.

"Okay, you are still a grouch. That was almost painful to listen too." Minerva said.

Snape turned slowly to glare at the woman. She was a pain. She raised an eyebrow at him and Dumbledore chose that moment to enter.

"Good morning everyone. I trust that you all slept well?" He said cheerily. Most of the staff nodded and said good morning. Snape grumbled. He did not sleep well. His morning was not good. Minerva elbowed him in the ribcage. It actually hurt.

"Alright, now we will have our heads of houses present the students who are staying this Christmas break. We will start with Professor Sprout. Will you please read your list of names?"

Sprout smiled.

"Of course! I have five students who are staying. Their names are Eileen Hofstander, Tony Auro, Cindy Fletcher, Myra Fletcher, and Joel Newman."

"Thank you." Dumbledore said. "Minerva?"

"I have four. Ron Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, and Harry Potter."

The smile on Dumbledore's face faded.

"Minerva, Harry will not be staying for Christmas. I have informed him that he must go back to the Dursley's because of the wards. He is safer there than here."

Snape's heart stopped.

Or at least he thought it did. Harry had to go back? No, this couldn't be.

"Are you sure, headmaster?" Minerva asked. Dumbledore nodded.

Snape couldn't stop himself.

"He can't go back."

The whole room grew quiet and everyone stared at him. The worst was Minerva's questioning look.

"Excuse me Severus? Did I hear you correctly?" Dumbledore asked.

"Why can't he stay here? How are the wards more protection than Hogwarts can offer?" Snape was already too far. He couldn't take back what he said.

"Well, as you know we have had some breaches in security. While we have those, the wards will not allow such a thing. It will be much safer. I have already told the boy and he agreed."

Snape didn't know how to argue this without spilling Harry's secret. So he nodded and quietly sat back, ignoring the look from Minerva. Dumbledore called him to read his list right after the Ravenclaw head of house. He did it numbly though, wondering of the horrors Harry would have to face over the next few weeks. As soon as the meeting was over, he rushed out of the room. Minerva grabbed at his robes and pulled him back. Snape batted at her hands, trying to loosen the grip. She pulled him to a halt though.

"Are you alright Severus?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine." He said. He wasn't though. He was worried. Snape had seen those welts on Harry's back.

"There's something you're not telling me." Minerva stated.

Snape shifted uncomfortably and looked around. Trying to look anywhere but in her eyes.

"Please, I may be able to help. What is it?" By now, he had managed to get rid of her grip. He stepped back.

"I am a grown man, Minerva. I can handle my own problems." He stormed away. Unfortunately, Harry was not a grown man. He couldn't handle his own problems. He was just a young boy. And Snape was the only person who could possibly have helped him, but he had ruined that chance. He had to help him, but he didn't know how.

The train was leaving in two days.

HARRY POV

Harry hid in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom for the rest of the day. He skipped lunch, but for some reason could not bring himself to be hungry. He just kept dreading the return to the Dursley's. His uncle would beat him for sure; having to deal with Harry for Christmas instead of him staying at the school. But he knew he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. He had to face it. He told himself he would get through it, that he'd be okay once he got back to Hogwarts. It's not like he was to stay there forever. Just three weeks.

With a small pep talk, Harry managed to get up and go back to the dorm. He kept his glamour charm on, just in case. When he entered the common room, Harry was jumped by Ron and Hermione.

"Harry! Where have you been?" they both asked. "We've been looking for you all day!"

Harry smiled.

"I'm sorry I had some business with the headmaster I had to tend to. I had to get up early."

"Oh." Ron said. "Well, do you want to come to dinner with us?"

"No thanks, I'm not really hungry." Harry said. Hermione was giving him a questioning look. He smiled encouragingly.

"You two go on ahead. I'm really tired. I think I might just go to sleep."

"Are you sure?" She asked. Harry nodded.

"Alright then."

With that, the two left the tower to go to the hall for dinner. Harry went straight to the dorm and went to bed, not bothering to remove his clothes. He pulled the curtains around his bed so that no one would disturb him, and slid a dreamless sleep potion from his nightstand. He downed it in one gulp and fell asleep almost instantly, welcoming the darkness of sleep.

Morning brought clouds and snow. Harry awoke, quite refreshed actually, and went straight to the showers. He changed his clothes and let his hair air dry while he sat by the fire. His glamour charm had worn off sometime in the night, and he decided to leave it off for he didn't look too awful to arouse any kind of suspicion from his friends. When they awoke, he put on a cheery mask and followed them to the great hall for breakfast. Tomorrow he had to go to the Dursley's. He tried to keep this out of his mind, but it proved to be difficult. Harry went through the routines of his day like normal, glad that he didn't have potions class, and at the end of the day, returned back to his dorm. He had one vial of dreamless sleep left, and he intended to use it or else he would never get to sleep. Harry took it and fell asleep once again.

SNAPE POV

Snape saw Harry that morning for breakfast. Today was the day the train would leave with almost every single student at Hogwarts, taking the children home for Christmas. The boy looked very cheery, but Snape knew that it was a mask. He had used a similar one when he was the boy's age. Snape couldn't help but cringe inwardly when he thought about how the boy was going right back to the place where he was hurt physically by the ones who were supposed to take care of him. Not only that, but Snape was allowing it. He kept telling himself that there was nothing he could really do for the boy or to stop Dumbledore from sending him; kept saying that if the boy really did not want to go, he would open up. But Snape knew it was not that easy to open up like that. And it would never solve the problem. He swallowed his guilt like usual and went through breakfast very quickly, leaving early, trying to avoid Harry's gaze. He did not accompany the rest of the teachers to watch the students be sent off. Snape stayed in his dungeons, eyeing his potions ingredients. He felt as though he had to do something. Even if it wasn't much, he had to. So he decided to brew some potions.

HARRY POV

The train ride was a lot shorter than it should've been. Before Harry knew it, they were pulling into platform 9 ¾. He grudgingly got off the train, his suitcase behind him. Harry did not pack much, for he would be back at Hogwarts in three weeks. But he packed enough.

As he got off the platform, he searched around, looking for the unfortunate sight of his aunt and uncle. He spotted them right by the door, waiting, their arms crossed in front of them angrily. It was as much as he had expected. He approached them cautiously.

"Good evening Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia." Harry said formally.

"Skip the reunion. Throw that stupid trunk in the back and get in!" Vernon barked.

Harry put the suitcase in the back of the car carefully, and got in. Dudley was not present. He wondered briefly where his cousin was at, but then decided not to care. It was better without him around, bossing Harry and being quite mean. The ride home was filled with Vernon going over the rules of the household. He was already in a bad mood, and Harry decided he would try his best not to provoke the angry man.

The ride was about twenty minutes long, and eventually, Harry set his eyes on the unforgiving house of number four, Privet drive. He got out of the car, suitcase in tow, and walked up the sidewalk. Vernon grabbed the back of his shirt and pushed him into the house, and towards the stairs.

"You are to go straight up to your room and stay there, got that?" he yelled.

"Yes uncle." Harry said, and wasted no time going upstairs into his room. At least he could escape temporarily.

The day went by extremely quiet. Aunt Petunia slid a grilled cheese sandwich through the flap in his door, and Harry wrapped half of it up and tucked it in his secret hiding place in the broken nightstand, just in case he didn't get any food the next day. He had a few chocolate frogs and cakes in his suitcase, but just how long they would hold up he didn't know. The sandwich was very burnt on one side, but Harry was glad just to get one at all. It was very boring in his room, so Harry spent the day reading his school books. So far he had managed to escape a beating. So far.

The next thing Harry knew was Petunia rapping on his bedroom door with her knuckles.

"Up, up you lazy boy! It's time for you to cook breakfast!"

Harry got up slowly, rubbing his eyes with his fists, yawning loudly. He got up from bed and quickly dressed, heading downstairs. It almost surprised him to find his bedroom door unlocked.

The kitchen was quiet; Petunia was knitting in the living room before her husband awoke. Harry still had seen no sign of Dudley so he figured he must be staying at a friend's house. Harry got together some bacon and eggs, and fried them up almost perfectly. As soon as he placed them on the table, his aunt and uncle had already grabbed half of the plate. Only a meager amount was left, but they let Harry have the rest. It was strange, really. They had fed him twice. Maybe they were starting to soften up some?

In twenty minutes, Vernon left the house to go to work. As soon as the door was shut, Petunia turned to him with a finger in his face.

"I know all of this is an act you ungrateful little boy. Dumbledore says that you had to come here because of the stupid wards, but I know why you are really here. So does Vernon. You just want to make our peaceful lives miserable. Well I'll tell you what. I'm going to make yours miserable. Dudley will be home tomorrow for Christmas eve, and I will not have it if his gifts are not wrapped. Or if the house is unclean. Here is your list of chores. If they are not finished by the time Vernon gets home, it will not be a pretty sight."

She shoved a piece of paper filled with writing in Harry's hand. He sighed inwardly, deciding he had better get on with the work. Or his uncle would be very angry.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry worked quietly all day long. He only saw Petunia twice; once to give her lunch and the other he saw her walking upstairs. The house was strangely still. It was unnatural to Harry, to be back here. Snow was covering the ground so all the animals outside were likely sleeping, and Petunia was avoiding him as much as possible. Not that he was complaining about that. Harry scrubbed the kitchen floors, vacuumed the living room, entry hall, and the cupboard. That was the most difficult because his old cot was still in there, almost as if they were expecting to put him back one day in the near future. Harry shook off that thought and lifted the old rickety thing he used to call a bed to vacuum underneath.

SNAPE POV

Snape could only wonder what horrors had already befallen the boy. However, if he were to find him injured, he needed to have the correct potions made or else he would be rather useless. Snape brewed another bruise cream, some blood replenishers (He really hoped these wouldn't be needed) anti-infection serum, and a calming draught. It would take about five hours for them to be ready, and Snape knew he'd be worrying the whole time. But it would be all in vain, because he knew he would get the boy out of there. As for what he would do afterward, Snape didn't know.

Four hours passed uneventfully. The calming draught and anti-infection serum was done. Only two more potions to be finished. Just as he was bottling the calming draught, his floo flared green. Lucius Malfoy stood before him, brushing the soot off his jacket. Snape knew this could take some time, so he quickly froze his brewing potions with a flick of his wand. Putting a cork in the draught, he placed it on a table and approached the tall Deatheater before him.

"Good afternoon." He said formally. Lucius simply nodded his head.

"Do you know why I am here?" he asked Snape.

"No, but that was to be my next question. Why are you here?"

"The Dark Lord is angry with you Severus."

Snape's heart skipped a beat. It was not good when Voldemort was angry. This usually meant a round with the Cruciatus curse.

"You remember the list he gave you two months ago? The one of all the potions he required you to make?"

Snape cursed himself. The list! It had completely slipped his mind between grading all the dunderhead's homework and worrying about Potter, the boy he was supposed to hate. He had done not one of the potions the Dark Lord wanted.

Snape was quiet and Lucius sneered.

"He has asked me to bring you to him. So come with me."

He turned to the floo, and Snape followed him in dread. Lucius turned.

"Oh, and you won't be needing your wand."

Reluctantly, Snape placed it on his table next to the frozen potions. The next thing he remembered was stepping through the floo.

HARRY POV

Harry was dusting the shelf above the couch when he felt something sharp. Pulling away instantly, he saw a pretty remarkable gash on his palm. Blood dripped from the wound and before Harry could react, some fell on Petunia's couch. He gasped and wrapped his hand in his shirt, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it soaked through and he couldn't stop it falling on the white carpet as well. He dashed to the sink and rinsed the stinging wound with water before wrapping it with an old dishtowel. Petunia would never give him a band-aid, he knew that from experience.

Once the blood stopped, he could free his mind which filled with worry. Grabbing his cleaning rag, he went back to the living room to try and scrub the blood from the carpet. It dulled some, but Harry only succeeded in spreading the stain around even more. Giving up on this, he moved to the couch with the same results. He stood back and was thinking of ways to get rid of the stain when he heard a sound from the doorway. Harry whirled around.

Vernon was home.

SNAPE POV

Snape stood before the Dark Lord, on his knees.

"My Lord, you have called for me?" He asked.

"Ah, yes, Severus. I have." The man took Snape's head in his grotesque hands. "And my favorite potions master, do you know why I have called you?" Snape could hear the sarcasm on the word "favorite". This was not going to be good.

"Yes my lord." He managed to say without his voice shaking.

"Good." Voldemort said. "Would you care to tell me?"

Snape took a deep breath.

"I have failed to produce the potions you requested, my lord."

"And you do know, that failure to do so results in…punishment?"

"Yes my lord."

"I'm glad we have an understanding. Lucius, bring me my wand."

Lucius brought the wand up to Voldemort, a sick smile on his face. The Dark Lord took the wand and examined it slowly, to draw out the tension in the moment, all the while eyeing Snape for a reaction. Before Snape could even brace himself, he heard "Crucio!" and his whole body erupted in pain. He felt like he was on fire. Everything hurt. Thrashing on the ground, he was careful not to scream. That only elicited more punishment. The curse was released, and he lay, gasping for breath, his black hair plastered to his forehead. He heard the curse again and for what seemed like ages, was on fire again. When he was released, his whole body ached, the nerves smoldering from the pain. He was vaguely aware of Voldemort saying something to Lucius.

"Tie him up. I'd like to see him suffer longer."

Lucius had him by the arms and dragged him to the back of the room. Too weak to fight, he watched as ropes were tied around his wrists, rough, thick ropes. They were knotted tightly and Lucius lifted him up, up off the ground so that his feet were barely touching the stone floor. He tied Snape up and stood back as if admiring the handiwork.

"Thank you Lucius. At least you can follow orders."

Voldemort shouted "Crucio!" Once more and Snape thrashed again. Only this time, when the curse was released, there was no real relief. It was too much for his nerves, which screamed in pain. Not only that, but the movement caused the ropes to grow tighter around his wrists. He barely noticed the blood dripping down his arms.

"Let's hope you learn this time. You failure."

Lucius was given the wand to hold again, and he spat at Snape as he walked away.

The room grew dark, and Snape vaguely took notice of this. No one had come in hours. He was left dangling by his wrists. The sharp pains that he had from the curse were starting to wear off to a dull ache. If only he had finished those potions…

Thinking of the potions left unfinished brought the four he had been making for Harry. Harry who was stuck at his abusive "home". If only he had done more. Regret and remorse mixed with the pain he was in shook the usually calm demeanor of the meanest teacher at Hogwarts. Why hadn't he done more? Why hadn't he stopped Dumbledore? He didn't want to betray the boy, that was why. He didn't want to spill the secret Harry wasn't ready to talk about just yet. In worrying about the possible emotional danger he could put the boy in, Snape had put Harry in an even worse situation. And he had, in fact betrayed him by trying so hard not to betray. Not only that, but he didn't make up with Harry before he left because Snape was embarrassed. Snape snorted at that thought. The poor boy must have thought he'd been abandoned, as soon as he started to trust someone. Betrayal was all he really knew.

In the cold darkness of the room he was in, no one was there to witness the rarest sight in the entire wizarding world. Severus Snape was crying.

HARRY POV

They stood there for a moment, Harry staring into his uncle's eyes, his uncle looking as though he was about to explode. It was inevitable. And after about ten seconds, it happened.

"What is this?" His uncle growled, slowly approaching in a menacing way.

"I-I cut myself. I'm sorry it won't happen again!" Harry pleaded.

"But it did happen. And you RUINED the CARPET!" Vernon was practically spitting at Harry. He looked down, pointing viciously with his fat finger, and then he froze.

"AND THE COUCH TOO? BOY, THAT IS IT!" He shoved his finger in Harry's face as he yelled this. Harry jumped backwards.

"I WILL NOT HAVE YOUR DISGUSTING FREAK BLOOD ALL OVER MY HOUSE!"

Vernon grabbed him by the wrist, practically wrenching his arm out of its socket and yanked Harry up the stairs. He was moving so fast, Harry was simply stumbling after him, almost ramming his face on the top stair when he tripped. Vernon quickly pulled him back to his feet. He was thrown into the bedroom and landed on his bottom on the hard floor. His uncle closed the door behind him and twisted the lock that was on the inside of the door.

"You will not get off this easy." He grumbled. Harry swallowed thickly, trying to force down the threatening tears. Vernon fumbled with his belt buckle and slid it off slowly, snapping it in front of Harry's face.

"Stand up." He commanded. Harry stood up quickly. The man marched around to his back.

"Shirt off."

Harry slid his shirt off and placed it neatly on the bed. This was going to be a long night.

He stayed facing the bed and he heard the footsteps approaching behind him. He was just able to brace himself for the blow because he heard the leather whistling through the air.

It stung a lot. Harry gasped and quickly bit his lip. Vernon didn't miss the sound though.

"Did that hurt?" He said laughing. "Obviously not enough."

The belt went through the air again. Right on top of the first blow. The pain was sharp. The next blow came. And the next. At about the eleventh blow, Harry started to see stars. He swayed a bit, and he uncle grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face him.

"Don't lose it yet, boy. You haven't finished the punishment."

He didn't expect the blow to the cheek at all and Harry's glasses went flying across the room. Surprisingly, they landed on the floor, unbroken. He almost raised a hand to soothe the pain, but stopped just in time. He saw Vernon raise the belt again. This time, the blow went straight into his abdomen. Harry doubled over, coughing. He tasted blood for he had bitten his cheek when he was slapped. Two drops fell to the floor. He fell to his knees and welcomed the relief of unconsciousness.

STILL HARRY POV

It was bright, and uncomfortably so. Harry cracked open his eyes and blinked. Only one eye responded. The other he couldn't seem to open. He tried to open it, but with no success. It was annoying him.

"Get off." He muttered to the obstruction on his eye. His voice sounded funny, hoarse almost. His lips felt funny too, and if he was tasting right, he could taste the unmistakable flavor of blood. He almost groaned. Vernon must have given him a beating again. The events of the night before came rushing back. Harry felt that he was lying on his side. He opened his eye again, and saw he was lying on the floor. He started to move his left arm, and it erupted in pain. He immediately relaxed it, letting the pain subside. When it was gone, he carefully placed it on the floor and gingerly rose from the position he was in. His back stung, and his face ached. His left shoulder hurt particularly, because of the way he was grabbed. Harry managed to sit on his bottom. He had to get up to assess the damage, but decided on giving it a moment to wake up.

He realized he must have a black eye, because it seemed to be swollen shut. The cut was on his hand; the cursed cut that caused all of this. There was an uneven line of dried blood across it. Right above his wrist was a line of bruises in the shape of his uncle's hand. The rest of his arm had nothing on it.

Harry turned his head and looked up on the side of the bed. His shirt was hanging off the edge still, right where he had placed it. When he looked back down to the floor, he saw the blood that had dripped from his lip. Harry lifted his fingers to his lips. They were cracked, and there was one raised crack filled with dried blood. He must look a mess, he thought.

Deciding that he had sat there for much too long, he raised himself carefully to his feet. At least they didn't hurt. He walked stiffly to the mirror on the wall and had to stop himself from cringing. His cheek where Vernon had hit him was swollen red. There was a dark ring of purple and blue bruises lining the cheekbone and his eye on that side. The cut he had felt earlier was visible on his lip.

Harry's stomach sported one long gash from the belt. At least it was only one, he thought. He turned around and examined his back. There were eleven gashes, all swelled and raised in large welts, crisscrossing in a sickening way. Bruises were forming underneath of them, almost like a decoration. An extremely morbid one.

After staring for what seemed too long, Harry shuffled back over and sat on the edge of his bed. It would do no good to put his shirt on. He decided to go through his suitcase. Maybe something would be in there that he could use to ease his pain. Like a dreamless sleep. Harry lifted it on the bed next to him and searched through it. He found an empty bottle of dreamless sleep and a half-used pepperup. He tossed them back in. They were useless. Just then, he noticed something at the bottom. Reaching in, he pulled out a half-used vial of cream. It was the bruise cream Snape had given him. In case he were to "fall" again, as the man had put it. Harry clenched it in his hand. If Snape truly hated him, would he really have given this to him? Everything was so confusing, Harry didn't know what to think really.

He was about to open it up and use what was left in the vial when he realized he probably shouldn't. His aunt and uncle would just punish him even more for using "magic" in their household. And anyway, if he were to get thrashed again closer to the time he was to leave, Harry had better have some left for his face. The face was the only thing he couldn't hide when he was punished like this. The robes covered the arms and body, cloaked the welts and hid the starvation. But his face was left for all the world to see. So Harry placed it gently into his bag and zipped it back up, tucking it underneath his bed. He might need it soon.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sound at the door. The flap had just been opened and a piece of bread was shoved through. Harry approached it and picked it up, examining it. It was stale, but better than nothing. He was quite hungry. Harry ate it in one bite. He wished he hadn't though, for it made him thirsty and he only had water from the faucet in the tiny bathroom that had been added to his room. It was bitter and tasted heavily of chlorine. The flavor only succeeded in making him thirstier. At least he only had about one and a half weeks left of this, he thought to himself. Then he'd be back at Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7

The room gradually grew lighter as Snape slid in and out of consciousness. Most of the effects of the curse were gone now, and in the haze the aching at his wrists became even more prominent. He was vaguely aware of someone coming in and out of the room, giving him meager amounts of food and water. He could have been there for days and not realized it, Snape thought. Could he have been? The haze in his mind was fading some, and he moved his stiff neck into an upright position. It was still the same room; he was still hanging by his wrists which were screaming as well as his shoulders. He looked around. There was no one in there at the moment, and he noticed that it was morning. The two windows that were in the room had light filtering in. Everything kept getting clearer and clearer. Snape knew he had to get out of there, but he didn't know how. Not only did moving send awful pain down his shoulders, but it pulled at the scabs that had formed on his wrist. This was the only indication of how long he had been there. For scabs to form like this, he must have been there for days, at the very least. Regardless of all this, he tried to move anyway, and only succeeded in sending more blood down his arms. It was exasperating. Just as he was on the verge of yelling something profane in irritation, the door in the right corner of the room opened and out stepped Lucius Malfoy. The last person he wanted to see, Snape glared at him. Malfoy was sneering, contempt easy to see on his pointed face. He was so much like his son, Draco. It was disgusting.

"Well, well. So the failure is finally awake?" He laughed.

Snape had a look of death on his face.

"Oh, how threatening you are, tied up like that. You haven't even been fully awake and coherent for a little over a week. I doubt you could do anything to me." He said sarcastically.

Snape froze. It was that long?

"Lucky for you, I was ordered to release you today. Apparently you have spying duties to complete."

The wizard flicked his wand and Snape fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"And remember, these duties had better come back finished." He gave Snape one last look of disgust and walked out.

It was a relief that the Dark Lord had not released Snape himself. However, it was also not so much a relief. That just showed how angry he was; so angry he didn't even want to be in the same room as Snape. Quickly pushing this thought out of his mind, Snape got up very slowly. His joints were extremely stiff from being in the same position for so long and his shoulders and wrists felt like they were falling off. Standing up almost made him pass out. He leaned his back on the wall for a moment, and then dragged his tired body to the floo, where he somehow managed to grab a handful of the floo powder and go through, back into his potions room where he was safe.

The room was quiet, and everything was exactly the way he had left it. The potions were still left unfinished and his wand was untouched next to them. He wasn't quite sure exactly what day it was, but he decided he could figure that out later. Collapsing on a chair near the table, Snape figured he had better examine his wrists. The rope was still tied around them, and the sleeves of his robes were irritating. Lifting his right sleeve, he almost cringed. Blood was caked on the ropes and scabs were forming underneath; some had been ripped off and fresh blood was still welling from the wounds. There was dried blood on his arm; he resolved to take care of that first. He went to his private bathroom and got a small basin of water and a washcloth. Placing it carefully on the table, he dabbed at his arm until all traces were gone.

He did the same with his other arm, and then grabbed a small knife from the table he sometimes used to cut potions ingredients. There was no way he could untie the ropes, so he started cutting them off. It was an arduous process. The rope kept rubbing his wounds and when he finally succeeded in cutting all the way through, some of the scabs had dried into the rope. He soaked his wrists in the basin until they softened and fell off easily.

Snape put an antiseptic on the wounds and wrapped them up carefully in bandages. They would heal with time. After taking an anti-cruciatus potion, some nutrient potions, and a pain reliever for his aching shoulders and now dully-throbbing wrists, he decided to find out what day it was.

The hallway was very quiet, so he reasoned that it must still be the Christmas break. Also, he had no students in his classroom. Dumbledore knew that he sometimes was called at random times to the Dark Lord and always arranged for a substitute. No one would question where he had been. At least he didn't have to deal with persistent questions, especially from Minerva.

Reaching Dumbledore's office, he spoke the password. When the staircase opened up, he stepped on it, rising to the door. Snape raised his hand to knock, and before he had even touched the door he heard Dumbledore say "Come in."

Snape turned the knob and pushed the door in. Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking at him expectantly.

"How are you, Severus? We've been missing you for quite a while."

Snape ignored the question.

"What day is it?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Why, it is Sunday."

Wow, he seriously had been out for a long time.

"Yes, but what Sunday? How many days left until the break is over?"

"Tomorrow is the first day of school."

Snape took a deep breath.

"That's all. Thank you."

As he turned to leave, Dumbledore spoke up.

"Is everything all right? You don't look well. You look like you're in pain. Did they use the curse again?"

Snape turned back to face Dumbledore.

"Yes. They did. Now I have much I must do."

"All right, you may go now." He said, taking the hint of dismissal.

He wasted no time exiting the room. He hated when Dumbledore asked him this kind of question. He didn't like reliving everything that happened at such meetings with the Dark Lord.

When he reached his room once again, he took notice of the frozen potions. They had to be finished, even though at this point, they were quite useless. The boy would be back tomorrow, and Snape couldn't go rescue him now. He could use them when Potter was back. He resolved to make everything right when he came back. But until then, he had to finish these. Not only that, but he had a whole week's worth of grading and lesson plans to do. At that thought, Snape groaned out loud. He had almost forgotten.

HARRY POV

The break went by slowly, with Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley ordering him around, tripping him, and starving him. Harry shoveled the driveway from all the snow, and had to wrap all forty-three of Dudley's Christmas gifts, and with burnt hands, nonetheless, for Dudley had shoved him into the stove. On Christmas day, Harry got an owl from both Ron and Hermione, with gifts of candy (sugar free from Hermione, apparently he'd get cavities) and another trademark Weasley sweater, handmade by Ron's mother. These candies kept him going when he had no other food to eat. He had long since run out of his leftover sandwiches and other small foods. He was allowed only the leftovers from Dudley and Vernon, and if their size is enough to show how much they ate, Harry barely got anything. To make things worse, Vernon caught him trying to get small pieces of food from the refrigerator at night, and that was cause for another one of his punishments. Harry got nothing to eat the next day, but thank goodness this punishment wasn't nearly as bad as the first. The bruises were still quite prominent on his face, and the welts had faded some, but he was still in some pain.

Since today was the last day of break and Harry would be leaving tomorrow, he decided to pack his things so he could leave right away. Yesterday was his "going away" beating, and he received quite a few bruises and two more welts on his back. But since he would be in public again, it seemed as though Vernon had decided not to do too much damage, for Harry already had a nasty bruise on his cheek and he wanted no questions. He threatened Harry that he better say he got that bruise in an accident or a fight or else his life would become even worse.

As he was packing, Harry's mind wandered back to Snape. The sting of betrayal was still rather fresh, and Harry was nervous about seeing him again, now that he had heard what Snape apparently was truly thinking. Even though it had looked like what he said was true, what if it wasn't? Through the pain, Harry had been holding on to a false hope, that perhaps things were not as they seemed. He needed to hear it from Snape himself, and anyways, he ran off before the man could say a word.

He resolved that he would try, at least, to talk to Snape and find out his side of the story. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that what he heard was untrue, and maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. After all, over this amount of time he had gathered his thoughts together and calmed down some. Not only that, but the treatment at the Dursley's was bordering on unbearable.

As he placed his quills into his suitcase gently, with hands that still hurt from the blistering after burning them, he shut the lid and put it by his bed. And not a moment too soon, for Petunia began rapping on his door, ordering him to clean the bathrooms one last time. Harry grudgingly got up and grabbed the cleaning supplies, heading to the bathroom.

Petunia hovered over him the whole day, shouting that he wasn't cleaning right. Harry tried so hard to do his best, but nothing was ever good enough. Finally, she seemed to get tired of ordering him around and said,

"You can't do anything right, you little freak. Always messing up everyone's perfect lives with all of your mistakes. I can't believe that stupid school even lets you stay! Those nasty teachers there must hate having to deal with a little screw-up like you."

With that she turned on her heel and left him alone. Harry dropped his cleaning rag on the floor and sat down, his head in his hands. She was quite right. How could anyone actually care about him? He didn't do anything right to anyone's liking. What good was he to the world other than being the boy-who-lived? Snape had said those things. He probably meant them. There wasn't much of a point in hearing his side of the story if this was the way he was thought of by other people. If some think it, than others must.

Finishing up the last of the cleaning, he headed back to his room, sitting on the floor. One of Dudley's broken toys lay on the floor next to where he was sitting, a telescope. The glass part was broken, and a shard lay next to him. Harry picked up the shard, running his fingers across the edge. It was very sharp. He pressed it to his skin, right above the joint of his elbow on the inner arm and slid it to the right. Blood welled up in a bunch of tiny little drops, shiny and round before spilling over. The pain inside of his heart refocused on his arm. He made another cut, and then another. Soon his arm was full of thirty or so lines, blood running down and falling to the floor. Harry dropped the shard and sighed deeply. The pain inside was dulled, if at least some. He got up and wrapped an old shirt of Dudley's around the wounds, watching as some of the blood soaked through and laid down on the bed. He could breathe easier now, and sleep came quicker and more restful than it had the whole break. He'd be at Hogwarts tomorrow.

Harry woke up before everyone else like every morning. He opened his eyes, slightly confused seeing the shirt wrapped around his arm, but then all the memories came rushing back like the Hogwarts express. The fabric clung to the dried blood, and Harry had to carefully pull it off. The wounds were scabbed up now, but his skin was an angry red around each.

Harry quietly went into the bathroom and ran his arm underneath the cool water. The dried blood washed away, and only the cuts were there, scabs standing up on each like miniature mountains. When he was satisfied that they looked clean, he dabbed at them with a towel until all traces of water were gone. He then proceeded to clean up the drops of blood still on the floor with the used shirt before Petunia saw them. They were mostly gone, when he heard his relatives stirring in the next room. They'd be up very soon.

He pulled on a shirt with long sleeves, covering the cuts carefully, and prepared himself to leave. He went to the bathroom and combed his messy hair, wincing when he saw the bruise on his face. He couldn't put the cream on now, because they'd know he used "magic." But Harry decided it didn't matter because he'd be leaving. They would have no power over him today. So he took what was left of the cream and spread it on his face, watching as the bruise disappeared. The blackish-blue streak was replaced with soft, new, baby pink skin, and Harry sighed, relieved that it was gone.

Not a moment too soon, for Petunia was yelling at him through the door to grab his stuff, for they were leaving.

Harry could see the shock on Vernon's face when he noticed the bruise was gone, but said nothing, pursing his disgusting lips and pushing Harry into the car. He slammed the door behind him, and flopped into the driver's seat. The ride was long and silent, but the relief of seeing the train station was overwhelming to the boy, and he practically danced as he got out of the car, his suitcase in his hand. Vernon sped away, glad to be rid of the boy, and Harry hopped onto platform 9 ¾ with anticipation. The ride was relaxing and before he knew it, Hogwarts was in his sight. Harry was home.

Everyone was herded off of the train, and Harry met Ron and Hermione at the small station. They exchanged hugs and all gathered into the great hall for the returning Christmas feast. The food was great and Harry finally felt full; a great improvement from what the previous weeks had held. But the great mood was somewhat hampered when Harry looked up and locked eyes with Snape. He lost all appetite and his previous plan of talking to him wavered. It seemed much more difficult now that he was actually here. He excused himself, and walked out of the great hall, hiding himself in an abandoned corridor to gather his thoughts.

SNAPE POV

The boy was eating a lot of food, Snape mused. He looked half-starved to death. And when he looked up and locked eyes with him, Snape could see the new soft skin on the boy's face. He had used the bruise cream, and very recently. Snape was quite surprised, for the boy suddenly looked away from his gaze and got up, leaving the great hall. He decided that now was better than never and followed after him, determined to set things right. He followed Harry from a distance down the hallways and wasn't surprised when the boy settled himself into an abandoned corridor, much like the time when Snape found out about the abuse. He peered around the corner.

Harry was sitting, his back on the wall, staring at his hands, looking them over. They were blistered and red, Snape saw. He quietly took out his wand and casted a diagnostic spell from his spot. A piece of parchment appeared and Snape picked it up, reading it over. Harry had burns on his hands, bruises, a few welts on his back, and cuts on his arm. He needed treatment. Snape silently left the spot, mentally taking a note on what corridor this was, and went to his potions stores. He picked out a burn cream, some more of the bruise balm, and an antiseptic. When he arrived back to the boy, he stepped right in front of him. Harry didn't even look up. It was like he was in a trance, not noticing anything around him.

Snape reached out and gently took Harry's right hand, which was burned. The trance was broken and Harry looked up. Emerald eyes bore into his, accusing, yet eyes yearning for something, something to ease the pain so evident within them.

"I'm sorry." Snape said. "I didn't mean what I said. It was a futile attempt to keep Malfoy off my back. I'm not supposed to be helping you, and in order to keep the Dark Lord off my case, I said those things."

There was a pause.

"I believe you." Harry whispered. "I'm sorry for running. I should've listened."

"It's not your fault." Snape said.

Harry looked down into his lap. Snape took out the burn cream and spread it on the angry blisters.

"And I'm also sorry I let you go back there. I didn't try hard enough and…" Snape paused. Harry's other hand had his sleeve. The boy pulled it back and the injuries to his wrists were visible.

"You're hurt." Harry whispered. "That man…did he do it?"

Harry looked up again, his face filled with empathy.

"Yes." Snape said. "I was going to come and get you the day you left…But he got to me first."

Harry let the sleeve drop. Snape moved to the other hand and made the burns disappear. It was silent, but comfortable. Each apology was sinking in. Snape remembered the cuts on the boy's arm from the parchment and went to pull up his sleeve. Harry stiffened, but didn't stop him. Snape thought this slightly odd, but when he saw the injuries, he understood. He looked at them for a moment, and then applied the antiseptic. Now was not the time to question the boy.

He'd leave it for another moment, when he was healed.


	8. Chapter 8

Snape snuck up on him so quietly, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he took his hand. When he looked into his professor's eyes, he knew that everything would be okay. Snape said he was sorry, that he didn't mean it. It was all a ploy. The relief was so great, Harry felt like his legs had turned to jelly, no longer having the worry keeping him tense. The only worry that was left was what the man did to him. Snape's wrists looked pretty bad, as if a rope had been cutting into his skin. They must've tied him up. And it must've been a long time, for he was going to come and rescue Harry from the Dursley's.

Snape was putting burn cream on his hands, and the pain and blistering was fading, leaving new skin behind. He flexed his right hand, testing out the easier movement when he moved on to the other one. It surprised Harry when Snape went to lift up his sleeve, and he was on the verge of protesting, but relented. He was tired of keeping secrets, and maybe someone could help him. He could see the slight astonishment in those onyx eyes, and then the understanding. It was almost as if the professor was going to say something, but then changed his mind, simply applying an antiseptic without question. Harry was relieved for this because even though he was ready for help, he wasn't ready to explain. Snape always seemed to know what he needed. It was like he dealt with this much too often. But there was something else about this understanding, something only experience could give. And with that thought, for a fleeting moment, Harry wondered what Snape's life was like when he was younger.

His musings were interrupted when Snape took him by the hand and stood up, indicating to Harry to do the same with a tug on his arm. Gingerly, he stood up and Snape let go.

"Let me see your back." He said.

Harry took off his robes and lifted his shirt up to his shoulders. Snape applied the bruise cream. The pain instantly faded, and Harry knew the welts were gone. He let his shirt back down and put back his robes, fastening them in the front before standing awkwardly and meeting Snape's gaze.

"I'd like you to get some rest Potter. You obviously haven't gotten very much."

Snape took his hand and placed a dreamless sleep potion in it. Harry held it up, looking at it.

"Thank you sir." He said.

"What time is your last class?"

Harry thought for a moment. He had Transfiguration at ten, then after lunch was Herbology and Charms. Charms ended at three.

"Charms; it ends at three."

"Very well, I'd like you to come down to my classroom after class."

Harry nodded.

"Yes sir."

Snape managed a grimace, seemingly in an attempt at a smile. It was quite frightening, actually. Such an expression was unnatural on the potion master's face. Harry had to stop himself from giggling. Was the most cold-hearted professor going soft?

"Off you go. I will not have you dozing off into your breakfast pumpkin juice."

Harry grinned. It felt good, to finally have something to smile about. And it was strange, yet comforting, the way Snape was. He wasn't really a greasy git. He was human.

Harry turned on his heel and made his way up to Gryffindor tower, the potion in his newly healed hand. Maybe things were going to get better now.

SNAPE POV

The boy's grin was such a relief to see. Snape almost couldn't believe that nearly a month ago, he had hated this poor child relentlessly and for an absurd reason. He finally gave in to his cold heart and decided he would care for him. Harry needed him, and as much as Snape didn't want to admit it, he needed the boy. Snape watched until he was no longer visible, and then turned to go back to his dungeons.

Tomorrow, at three, he would have a talk with Harry. There was no way he could go back to those horrible muggles, no way. But Harry had to open up some, and tell his head of house. Not to mention, eventually Dumbledore. He still had time, it was about six more months before the end of the school year, but someone had to know. Snape decided to let the boy take small steps on his own accord. That was usually the best strategy; he knew from experience. Start by telling Minerva, and then perhaps Poppy…Then Dumbledore would need to know. That part was inevitable.

Snape opened the door to the classroom, dreary like usual, but even more so from lack of use over the holidays. He rubbed his aching wrists and put the leftover potions back into the potions closet. He closed the door after placing the small vials on the shelves, the hinges creaking from behind. As soon as the door clicked shut, he was face to face with Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

Snape scrutinized the pale figure with a sharp glance.

"What are you here for?" He asked, walking past him to his desk where a pile of papers was lying. Nick followed him and glided in front of the desk when Snape sat.

"I would like to ask you something." The ghost said.

"Very well, get on with it. I have things to do."

He heard a sigh.

"It's about Harry. Harry Potter."

Snape paused and laid down the quill he had picked up. Folding his hands he looked up.

"Yes?"

"I saw him, in the corridor." He paused for a moment, studying Snape's face. "And you. Tending his hands and his arm, of which were wounded."

Snape didn't quite know what to say, so he turned back to his usual sarcastic self.

"That's not really a question now, is it?" he snapped, and picked up his quill to mark some of the leftover papers. He was startled from this when a cold hand swept itself across the desk, fluttering the papers all over the floor.

"You know what I'm saying!" Nick bellowed. "I know how he got those cuts!"

Snape sighed, exasperated, and slapped the quill back down.

"What does it matter to you?" he growled, trying to intimidate the being with no such luck.

"That child is in my house, and is supposed to be under my supervision. I deserve an explanation!"

He had a point.

"I'm sorry, Sir Nicholas. It is not an explanation you can acquire from me." Snape said, leaning back in his chair. "But before you have another fit, let me tell you I'm going to speak with the boy tomorrow. Encourage him to talk to Minerva. I've dealt with abuse before, and you know that. It's not something that can be forced out of a child to talk about. This boy is hurting, and right now, it's better for him to decide what he wants to do and when."

Nick was quiet.

"Abuse? That's why he did it?"

Snape nodded.

"Very well then. I trust you to know what is best, Severus. I've seen those snakes, the ones that hurt themselves. You always give them hope. You seem to know what you're doing."

"Thank you." Snape said, nodding curtly. The ghost turned to go.

"Wait." Nick turned around.

"Don't let him on that you know."

The Gryffindor ghost nodded and disappeared into the air. Snape waved his wand, and all the papers fluttered back to his desk. He continued on with his grading.

MINVERVA POV

During the dinner in the great hall, Minerva took notice of Harry. Of course, she always did, but this time was different. He looked quite frail, and his face…the glow of his skin looked quite familiar…almost as if he had used the bruise balm that Severus made so often. It was his specialty, and an original brew, too. Snape would give some to Minerva whenever she got injured. The man seemed very cold, but his heart was in the right place.

The boy suddenly looked up, right to the head table, meeting eyes with someone. Looking to her right side, she saw Severus, eyes locked right to Harry's. The boy looked down and the potions professor continued to peer out, studying the child. Then Harry got up, and left the great hall, without another glance back. Minerva looked back to Snape. He was frowning, concentrating on the retreating form and rose from his seat, following the same path Harry took.

Minerva was puzzled.

Snape knew something she didn't, that much was clear. He had been acting funny, and only just now she was beginning to put the pieces together. The time Snape found Harry up in the astronomy tower, ill, and took him to the hospital wing. The time he spoke out in the meeting about Harry going back home for break. And when Minerva had confronted him, right after the meeting. The two had something they weren't saying, and Minerva had a bad feeling about it namely because of one thing: the healed skin on the boy.

Snape gave him that, there was no other way he could have gotten the potion. Minerva knew that much. The fact that he had this right after he came back from break coupled with the small argument Snape put up on the boy going back home all seemed to fit together. She didn't want to believe it, but Minerva wasn't sure. He was always so thin, and rather quiet. Snape was the most experienced professor in the school with cases like this, as many Slytherins came from awful families. The Gryffindor couldn't think of any other explanation.

She wanted to quell her worries, to tell herself that this wasn't true, but she needed proof. The meal would end in another fifteen minutes, and then she'd have to lead the children back to the dorms. After everyone was settled, Minerva decided that she would see Severus.

HARRY POV

Harry reached the dorms within minutes. It was rather quiet and peaceful in there, for everyone was still at dinner, stuffing their faces. Especially Ron. He made his way up the spiral stairs and into the familiar tower he had spent so many nights in. Taking off his robes and putting on some comfortable pajamas, Harry climbed into the bed and pulled the curtains, but not before studying his arm. There were small raised scars up and down the pale flesh. He thought back for a moment, the pain, the blood, the control. It was the only time Harry had control over his pain. All the other times it was under the Dursley's command. It had felt good. Harry ran his fingers over the small bumps, pressing on them, trying to bring more pain. But they were too healed.

Harry sighed and pulled the sleeve back over. Maybe it was better that way. Healed.

MINERVA POV

Her lions were all settled in their beds, and hopefully, sleeping. So Minerva donned her robes and quietly marched down the long corridors to the dungeons.

Moonlight was streaming through the many vast windows throughout the school. It was very peaceful and Minerva felt it relaxing to take a walk at this time of night. She reached the main door to Severus's dungeon in what seemed like minutes, and noticed the door was slightly cracked, torchlight filtering through. She could hear the scratching of a quill and pushed the large door open slowly, peering around the edge. Her colleague was sitting at the desk, grading papers almost ferociously. She walked up to him, standing right in front of him before he growled,

"What do you want, you foolish Gryffindor?"

"Is that any way to treat your-" Minerva stopped abruptly, and pulled Snape's sleeve up. "My God, Severus! What did you do to your arms?!" She yelped.

Snape yanked his arm from the woman.

"It's none of your bloody business!" He spat. Minerva knew it irritated him to no end when someone acted like he cared. She guessed it was from years of trying to hide his emotions from everyone, trying to seem like a cold-hearted nothing. It was an automatic protection.

"Why are you always so disagreeable?" Minerva said, almost stamping her foot in frustration. Almost.

"Because, I don't need a dithering prat hovering around me every minute of the day, trying to act like a mother. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself!"

Minerva's words turned to ice. This was quickly becoming an argument, and she had every intention to win.

"I've heard that before. Yet you can't even use your magic or your potions to take care of your own cuts."

"Well it isn't my bloody fault that Dumbledore has me up to my neck in work. I haven't had time to worry about such an unimportant thing." Snape said.

"Will you stop saying 'bloody?'"

Snape stared her in the eye, his gaze boring a hole into her. If looks could kill, this definitely would be deadly.

"NO." He drawled. Snape looked back down to his paperwork and continued grading.

In irritation, Minerva swept her hand across the stack of papers and scattered them all over the floor.

"Why the bloody hell does everyone keep doing that to me?!" Snape slammed his fists onto the table, the quill's tip shattering. Minerva noticed the quick wince on the man's face as his injuries made contact with the wood. He changed is expression very quickly though, and only someone who knew him well would have noticed. He stood up, facing Minerva.

"What do you want?"

"You know what, I changed my mind. There is no way that you could actually be worried about him."

With that, she stormed off, out of the dungeons and back to her cozy tower. The man seriously got on her nerves. There was no way. Seriously, how could he actually care?

But she couldn't shake the instinct of what she didn't want to know.

SNAPE POV

He grabbed a fistful of papers and flung them at the wall in irritation. Why had she even come? Women were so aggravating sometimes. Snape stopped for a moment, recalling the last words she yelled at him. What had she meant? He waved his wand slowly, thinking, and the papers all floated up, stacking into a neat pile on his desk. Worried about who?

He sat back down, shaking his head. He muttered a "repairo" and fixed the shattered quill, dipping the tip into his red ink bottle. He scribbled all over a first years' awful essay before it dawned on him. Maybe she was talking about Potter. Could she have noticed something at dinner? The way Snape had left after Harry? He put down the feather gently. Nearly Headless Nick had noticed, maybe, just maybe she had. It was actually sort of a relief, both on Snape and Harry's part. If she already had an inkling of what was going on, it would be much easier to break to the news. He only hoped this was the case.

Snape looked back down to the paper and noticed red ink stains were gathering at the bottom. Wondering where it came from, he looked all over the desk. Right when he was about to give up, he noticed that his wrist had started bleeding again when he banged his fists on the desk. As much as he hated to admit it, the foolish Gryffindor was right. Snape couldn't even take care of his own wounds. Some man he was. He pressed the sleeve of his robes to the wound to stem the flow of blood and went back to his potions closet. It sure had gotten a lot of use as of late. He picked an antiseptic and a healing balm and after disinfecting the wound, spread the balm all over it. It healed almost instantly, and Snape moved to the other arm, doing the same.

After fixing them up and putting the empty vials away, he leaned back in his chair and continued on grading the papers. The only sound that could be heard in the lonely dungeons was the scratching of a quill.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi all! I hope you are enjoying the story so far! I'd like to note again, that I am not following the timeline of the books. While it takes place in book 3, I kind of mashed everything together and ignored basic things like the fact that voldy is not back yet and Harry can't go to Hogsmeade. You know, for fun. And also, I'm a bit of a review junkie. I love reading reviews as long as they're nice:) So...please...don't hesitate to hit that little review button at the bottom of the story...Anyway, enough with my rambling! Please enjoy!**

"Harry wake up!"

Harry opened his eyes to see a blurry form of his friend, Ron.

"We're going to be late for breakfast! Get your lazy bum up!"

He sat up and rubbed his eyes with a big yawn.

"Goodness, Ron. Must you be so loud in the morning?"

Ron rolled his eyes and ruffled him lightly on his head sending Harry's already unruly hair into a huge mess. Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on. The room became clear and he jumped up to put on his robes. He shooed Ron out while he changed, and within a few minutes, the only thing that still needed fixing was his hair. He ran a comb through it quickly, but it did little to change the crazy mop. He gave up quickly and headed down to the common room to meet up with Ron and Hermione.

Breakfast was great as usual, and Harry was glad he could finally feel full. It was a welcome relief after the Dursley's and he did not take a single crumb for granted. He locked eyes with Snape for a moment, and Harry smiled while Snape made his funny half-grimace. He held up three fingers and Harry nodded. He was being reminded of the time he needed to be in the dungeons. It was strange, really, that their attitudes toward each other had changed so drastically.

"Ew, what is with that creepy look on Snape's face?" Ron said repulsed, his mouth full of food.

Harry shrugged and laughed at Ron, for he looked ridiculous with pumpkin juice dribbling down his chin.

The trio got up and headed back to the dorms to retrieve their books. Harry couldn't find his Transfiguration textbook. He told Ron and Hermione to go on and he'd catch up to them later. Searching around the room, there was no trace of the book. Discouraged, he sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering where it could have gone, when he noticed it, sticking out of the suitcase he hadn't finished unpacking. Harry grabbed his book and ran out the dorm. But upon reaching the many stairwells, he could not find the one he had taken. They must've shifted again. Huffing in frustration, for he was going to be late, Harry looked for another way down. He finally found a staircase, and the last bell rang as soon as he got on it.

The door to Transfiguration was closed and most likely meant it was locked to keep pests from coming inside, especially after a certain disaster where Peeves let loose a swarm of bees that caused horrible hallucinations when stung, and they specifically targeted people. Even though the ghost could get in, he couldn't bring any objects through the doors or walls. Harry knocked on the aged wood and waited. He heard the clicking of a lock, and McGonagall was standing right in front of him, an angry scowl crossing her face.

"Why, Mr. Potter, are you late this morning?" She asked.

"I'm sorry professor, I couldn't find my textbook." Harry said.

"Very well then. This time there will be no consequences, but next time you're late, it'll be five points."

"Yes ma'am."

He walked into the classroom and took his usual seat by Ron and Hermione.

They were working on transfiguring objects to animals this unit, and today they were working on turning books to birds. Hermione was quite against this, however.

"It's just not practical to destroy a book like this!" She protested.

"Hermione, just do it." Ron sighed.

"Well, I'm not going to like it!"

Because Hermione had read the entire book, studying each spell like crazy, she performed it perfectly. A white bird flew up from the desk and across everyone's heads.

"Quick, catch it!" Hermione cried. "That's my textbook that's flying away!"

Harry and Ron scrambled to catch the bird. After a few close calls, Harry reached up high and jumped, catching the white bird gently in his hands. He held it to his chest while it squirmed around, trying to flap its wings. The feathers were soft and they tickled. Harry found himself laughing as he brought it over to Hermione. She quickly performed the undoing spell, and soon the bundle of feathers became a heavy text. It was almost disappointing.

"Phew, I'm glad I have it back!" Hermione said, hugging her book. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Very nice, Hermione." McGonagall came over. "That'll be a perfect grade for today."

Hermione beamed. McGonagall looked at Harry for a moment, her gaze questioning. Harry looked back to her, noticing, and she quickly looked away, occupying herself with Neville, who had turned his textbook into a two-headed snake.

Class was soon over, and on the way out, they met up with Peeves, who was trying to pick the lock of the classroom with a bobby pin.

"Shoo!" Hermione yelled at him, waving her hands as the ghost flew up high.

"Little children, you annoying creatures. Always trying to mess up my fun!" Peeves blew a raspberry at them before spiraling away into the long corridors of the castle.

"Wonder what he was trying to get in this time." Ron snorted. Harry shrugged.

They had an hour before lunch, and then Herbology, all except for Hermione. Somewhere along the walk back to the dorms, she disappeared, leaving Ron and Harry thinking she went to the bathroom.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron played wizard chess, procrastinating on their schoolwork. When noon came, they went for lunch and Hermione was there before them.

"Where'd you go, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"I was in class." She said. Ron rolled his eyes. After lunch they went to Herbology, and then Charms. Soon, it was three o'clock. Harry quickly dropped his books off in the dorm and headed down to the dungeons. He was a little late. Snape would be waiting.

MIVERVA POV

After the fight with her colleague, Minerva pretty much dropped the thoughts she had concerning Harry. She told herself there was no way something like that could be true, no way and she had pretty much forgotten about the entire incident until class. Hermione transfigured her textbook perfectly, the pages becoming a white bird, flying around the classroom. It was all going well, and then Harry reached up to catch it. His sleeves slid down on his arms and Minerva saw something that made her shudder.

Small, uniform, raised scars were lined up on his forearm. They were too straight, too deliberate to have been caused by something unintentional. All the worries she had held beforehand came back to her, and Minerva knew she had to do something. After lunch and her last class of the day, she decided she would go and speak with Severus properly; this time, ignoring his insolent remarks and constant jabs. One of her lions was at stake now, and she had to do something, or at least make sure everything was alright. And Snape seemed to know what was wrong with the boy, from her observations.

At about two thirty, she wrapped up her paperwork and grading and headed out of the towers and down to the dungeons. However, on her way out, she met up with Nearly Headless Nick, who almost flew right through her.

"Goodness, Nick! What is the rush?" She exclaimed.

"Two Slytherins planted dung bombs on one of our lions and the entire common room is a mess!" He said. "I was just looking for you!"

Minerva was too concerned about the mission she was on right now to attend to the problem.

"Can you take care of it for me, please? I've got some important business to attend to."

"Of course, Minerva. But may I ask; where will you be in case I am in dire need of your assistance?"

"I'll be down in the dungeons with Snape. I've got to ask him a few things."

Nick furrowed his pale brow.

"I'm not trying to intrude or anything, but merely out of curiosity, why? Snape hates Gryffindors, and from my experience, the feeling's mutual."

"It's Harry. Harry Potter. I'm a bit worried about something, but I'm hoping Snape will quell my fears." She said reluctantly. It wasn't like her to hide anything from her fellow Gryffindor, and she felt guilty withholding anything. To her surprise, Nick's face turned grave.

"I see. I'm afraid you may not find the solace you are looking for. But to you, good luck. I've got dung bombs and Slytherins to take care of." He nodded curtly and flew off before Minerva could say another word.

Now she was more worried than she was previously and dread began to set in. Nick knew something, and so did Snape. And from what Nick said, the knowledge he had was not good. That much was evident. But the strange thing was, why didn't she know? Wasn't she the head of the house Harry was in? She was supposed to know everything that was bothering a child, especially the ones in her house. What was even stranger was the fact that the head of the enemy house knew whatever it was that was going on, and he didn't say anything. Protocol said that if another head of house knew something important about a student, they were to notify the head of their house. This was not normal. She quickened her pace, wanting to go as fast as she could.

She finally arrived at the dungeons at about two forty-five, considering the delay with Nick and the trek there. The door was cracked as if Snape was expecting someone and she pushed it open all the way. He was sitting at his desk like he had been last time, grading his papers. Except today, he lifted his head, looking at who was entering with an expectant expression. His face turned to a scowl, however, when he saw Minerva enter.

"Good afternoon, Severus." She said.

"What do you want now, Minerva? I haven't the time to get into another shouting match."

She approached his desk. She wasn't quite sure how to begin the conversation without either making him angry, or herself. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that this was important. Her student needed her. What exactly for, she had yet to discover.

Snape, sensing the hesitation, decided to pay attention to his colleague, and he looked up, setting his quill down. Minerva had now decided on her tactic.

"Yes…?" He asked, trying to prompt whatever it was she was trying to say in his normal, low drawl.

She sighed.

"Two of your snakes have planted dung bombs on one of my students and now our common room is a mess. I would like to ask you to take measures of punishment accordingly."

Snape looked up at her, raising his eyebrows, a bemused expression set upon his face.

"Well now, Minerva. Surely you did not come all the way down here just to say that."

She looked down, and back up to his dark eyes.

"You're right."

"You'd better get on with it. I haven't got all day. I've got a student coming in for a conference in five minutes. I doubt it would be appreciated to have your intrusion on the discussion."

"It's about Harry." She blurted out.

Snape shook his head and pursed his lips.

"It's always about the golden boy, isn't it? I can assure you, the points I've taken from him were all part of punishments well earned."

"No, Severus. You know what I'm talking about. And you haven't told me, that's the problem. I know something is going on, and I'm here to find out just what."

"Tell me now, what is it that you believe is going on?"

There was hesitation in his voice, and Minerva picked up on this.

"I saw something. His arms." She paused for a moment, gauging Snape's demeanor. She could see him slowly becoming slightly uncomfortable. Minerva continued on, slowly. "There were scars, lots of them. I know they were put there for a purpose. And I have the feeling you know what that purpose is."

If she didn't have his full attention before, she had it all now. The quill he had picked up again was set firmly on the desk and he folded his hands before him.

"Severus, I need you to tell me. This is my student, and my responsibility."

Something had changed in him, and the Gryffindor knew she was seeing a side of Snape she rarely ever saw. He was almost vulnerable. It came to her attention that he did not deny knowing about the boy's scars. Normally he'd have told her she was being ridiculous, that this was Harry Potter, Hogwarts' celebrity. He'd have taken every opportunity to insult him. This was a confirmation to her. Harry was hurting himself. But why?

"I…"

"Please!" She pleaded, cutting in, desperation edging into her voice. She felt helpless, and she leaned on his desk, her hands set on its smooth surface, two feet away from Snape's face.

"He's hurting himself! I can't let that happen. I'm supposed to help him!" She felt a familiar sting at the back of her eyes, and told herself to get a grip, but her eyes weren't listening. A single tear fell onto the paper in front of her. "My God, Severus, why won't you say anything?"

Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Someone was clearing their throat. Snape looked around her, seeing who it was.

"I'm sorry, could you step outside for a moment?"

His deep voice broke the spell in the room. Snape's hand slid in his robes and pulled out a handkerchief. He handed it to Minerva and she wiped her eyes with it, standing up straight. She held it out back to him, and he took it.

"I've got a student waiting. May we continue this conversation later?"

Minerva sniffed, tears fresh in her voice.

"Who?"

"The golden boy himself."

She paused for a second.

"You may use the back door." Snape said, gesturing to the room in the back. Minerva nodded, and walked through without another sound, only her footsteps echoing in the spacious hallway.

SNAPE POV

Snape didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to tell her yet, not without Harry's permission. That was what he planned to get today. But it was so difficult. Yes, he didn't like the woman very much and felt she was being ridiculous most of the time, but he could see the pain in her eyes. He had known her for so long. It wrenched at his heart, much like the time he lost Lily by calling her the most wretched of names. Of course, he would never admit this. He tried to shake this thought out of his mind and shifted his focus to the present.

"I…" He started. Snape had no idea what to say, so he was glad when Minerva cut in.

"Please!"

Snape could hear the edge crawling into her voice.

"He's hurting himself! I can't let that happen. I'm supposed to help him!"

He was about to relent, to tell her the truth, but he stopped short when he saw the tears. She was crying. A tear fell on his paper. It was painful to watch this woman, who had held herself together so well all the time he had known her just fall apart. He had never seen her cry.

"My God, Severus, why won't you say anything?"

Snape was glad when he heard a noise at the door. Saving Minerva from embarrassment, he told Harry, who had arrived, to wait outside for a moment. The boy gave him a questioning look, but did as he was told.

"I've got a student waiting. May we continue this conversation later?" he said, glad to have time to get his thoughts together before another encounter. It wasn't really a surprise when Minerva asked who was there.

"The golden boy himself."

It seemed as though the fiery Gryffindor had no more words left. He gave her his handkerchief to wipe her tears and told her to go out the back. It would be better that way. She complied and left. Snape took a deep breath as the tension in the room left. He could hear her footsteps growing faint, and when he decided that she was gone, he straightened the stack of papers on his desk. He looked towards the door.

"You may come in now."

The boy edged into the room, scoping out the area, making sure that his head of house was gone.

"Is she alright?" He asked.

Snape nodded and motioned for the boy to sit down. They had much to talk about.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!**

HARRY POV

Harry had just reached the outside of the dungeons when he saw the door was open. Pushing it further, he saw McGonagall talking to Snape. But he could tell something was wrong. Her shoulders were heaving up and down, as if she was crying. This was an awkward moment. Not knowing what to do or what to think, he cleared his throat, signaling he was there. Snape peered around Harry's head of house and told him to step outside for a moment. Harry looked at him quizzically and did as he was told. He stood on the outside of the classroom, straining his ears to hear what was happening. All he could hear was quiet sniffling and the rumbling of Snape's voice, but it wasn't loud enough so that he could understand what was being said. He wondered, was she really crying? And if so, what for? He heard footsteps disappearing into the dungeons and then Snape telling him he could come in. Harry walked in with hesitation, looking around to see his teacher was gone. Not knowing what to say, he asked

"Is she alright?"

Snape nodded and pointed to a chair in front of the desk. Harry sat down.

"Why was she here, sir?"

"To talk about you." Snape said matter-of-factly.

Harry stilled, his brow furrowing. He didn't tell her did he?

"Did you…" Harry began and Snape interrupted,

"No. Not yet. But that is the reason why I called you here."

He leaned back into his chair.

"She's worried about you. You see, she has noticed lately the way you've been acting, and she saw when I went to fetch you after the break. Professor McGonagall is not stupid. She put all the details she observed together and what really put her over the edge was seeing something on your arm."

Harry lifted his left arm and stared at the scarred flesh. It must've been in class the other day. She had looked at him funny; that had to have been when she noticed.

"She must have seen my scars. In class. I reached up to grab the bird Hermione had just transfigured. I noticed that she gave me a funny look, but that never came to mind."

Snape nodded.

"Why though? Why do I need to tell her?" Harry asked, laying his arm back in his lap.

"Why not, Potter? She's your head of house. You're like a son to her."

Harry bit his lip.

"I don't know…"

"Listen to me." Snape said. He laid his elbows on the desk and looked straight into Harry's eyes. "I've known McGonagall since I went to Hogwarts. I've seen her through the most painful moments in her life, through the most trying. And never once have I seen her cry. Not until today." He paused for a moment. "She was crying because she couldn't help you, because you couldn't open up to her. She felt herself a failure for not being there, as your teacher and head of house, and for not noticing the pain you've been going through."

"It's not her fault, though." Harry said. "I made it so she wouldn't notice, with glamours and other such things."

"Yes, but she does not know this. She blames herself. And the only way she will not is if you tell her."

They were quite for a moment, Harry turning this information over in his head. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he took a deep breath.

"I'm afraid." He whispered, looking into his lap.

"She won't blame you. She's not going to be angry. And she will not betray you." Snape said.

Harry looked back up and into Snape's onyx colored eyes.

"How do you know?"

"Because, I've…" The potion's professor sighed. "Because I've done it. I've been through the same thing. That's what I thought would happen, I was so afraid that I'd be blamed, or that they'd be angry and even that if I told, I'd be betrayed like I had been so many times by my own father. But it won't be like that. Yes, it will be frightening, and you will ask yourself why you are doing it many times over; and yet, it will all be worth it. That's because McGonagall is not your uncle. She is your professor, your head of house, and your caregiver while you are at Hogwarts. She loves you, and real love will not blame, or accuse, or betray. Real love will heal."

Harry's eyes stung, tears prickling and threatening to overflow. But he did not stop them. He needed to cry. He'd been holding back his tears for much too long. He sobbed into his hands and felt an arm around him. He leaned into Snape's hug and cried for a long time. He wasn't sure how long it was, but eventually the tears began to stop. Snape knew exactly what he had gone through. He'd been abused, too. That's why he always knew what to say, what to do, and how to help.

He pulled back out of the embrace, sniffling quietly. Snape was kneeling in front of the chair, holding a handkerchief out. Harry took it and wiped his eyes.

"W-who? Who d-did you tell?" He asked.

"Dumbledore." Snape said. "He didn't blame me at all. He was a bit angry, but at my father. Dumbledore found me a new place to live, and that's when my life changed, I became much happier. I couldn't believe I never said anything before. And most importantly, he has never betrayed me. Ever. Neither will McGonagall."

Harry handed the handkerchief back.

"I'll tell her." He said.

Snape did his little grimace-smile and said

"Good."

"Will you stay with me? While I tell her?" Harry asked. Snape nodded.

"Of course."

Harry let a small smile creep onto his face.

"When would you like to tell her?"

"Maybe right now." He shrugged. "Before I change my mind." He joked, letting a smile take over his whole face. Snape patted Harry's hand and stood up, holding it out to help him up. Harry took it gratefully and got to his feet, a little unsteady from crying.

They walked down the hallway together in a comfortable silence. Harry was a bit nervous, but he knew it would be okay because Snape was there and he said it would be. They reached the door to McGonagall's office and Harry paused, staring at the door. His nerves were getting the better of him. As he took a deep breath, he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly and pushed open the door…

SNAPE POV

It was difficult, to admit this to Potter, his supposedly sworn enemy. However, the boy needed it, and Snape knew it was the only way he could get through to him. He told him how he had been abused, too. Snape had expected a reaction of surprise, and many questions, but like always, the boy-who-lived surprised him by breaking down in tears. Even though this response was sudden, he had expected some tears during the talk, and was well-prepared. When the boy calmed down, he was proud of what Harry said.

"I'll tell her."

Snape couldn't help but smile at this.

"Good." He had said. The boy asked him to stay when he told her, and for that, Snape was glad. Glad that he could be there to support the both of them and help out if needed. Minerva didn't have much experience with this sort of situation, so he was willing to do what was necessary and help however he could.

He had expected the boy to make a time for when he wanted to have the discussion, but Harry decided to do it now, at the spur of the moment. This was perfect. It would allow them to avoid her possibly coming to Harry instead, which would probably be bad for his healing, as it was always better in his experience for the student to seek help than be chased down by it. As they walked down the hallways to the Gryffindor tower, he noticed how comfortable the silence was between them. So much had changed. It seemed surreal, almost, to be friends with Potter's son, and to have gone through the same exact pain as he. Harry was not much different than Snape, and he had long denied it until now.

They reached the door to Minerva's office, and Snape noticed that Harry hesitated. He squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly, reminding him that he was not alone. This seemed to encourage him and Harry pushed it open.

The room was lit by late sun coming in through cathedral-like windows. The Gryffindor head of house had her head on the table, her shoulders heaving as she cried. She didn't seem to notice that they opened the door, and Snape walked in quietly with Harry at his side. They stopped for a moment, as if thinking what to do. This was Harry's job now, to find out what to do. Harry looked up at him expectantly, and Snape nodded. He watched as the boy walked over to the desk.

"Hey. Please don't cry." He said quietly.

Minerva lifted her head; hair plastered to her tear-streaked face and looked at the boy.

"Oh, Harry! What are you doing here? I-I'm sorry I didn't expect you to come…" She looked over and noticed Snape standing there. They locked eyes for a moment and then she burst into tears again.

"I'm sorry Harry, I'm sorry that I didn't notice, that I didn't do anything, that I let you suffer…" The rest of her words were muffled because Harry took her in his arms and she sobbed into his shoulder. Harry patted her hair and held her.

"Shh, it's not your fault, professor. It's mine. I didn't tell you and I kept it hidden with glamour charms and other things."

She pulled away from his grip and faced him.

"No, don't you ever blame yourself." She said sternly.

"Only if you don't."

Minerva looked back to Snape.

"I take it you told him what I said?" She asked. Snape merely nodded.

"Harry has something he would like to tell you, but I assure you, it will not be easy." He said in his usual stern tone.

She turned back to the boy and smiled.

"What is it, dear?"

Harry shuffled his feet and his right hand went to his arm. Snape saw him gripping it quite hard, his nails digging into his sleeves. Harry needed him. He went over and put his hand back on the boy's shoulder.

"You can do it Potter." He said. The boy took a deep breath, and then with a shaky hand, pulled up his sleeve, holding it out to Minerva.

"I did it…I…I did it because of my uncle."

She took his arm and held it for a moment.

"Why? What did your uncle do?"

"He's not very nice." Harry said. Snape nudged him and said,

"Come on, now."

Harry pulled his arm back, as if trying to hide it by pressing it to his side.

"He beats me." He whispered.

Minerva's hand flew to her mouth and she choked on a sob.

"Oh my goodness. Those horrible muggles!"

"It's okay." Harry said. "I mean, sometimes I deserved it."

"You deserved nothing of the treatment they imposed upon you." Snape spoke up. "I never want to hear you say that again."

"Yes sir." He said.

"You can't go back." Minerva said.

"But where will I go?"

"We'll worry about that in time, dear. Right now we just need to keep you safe."

Harry nodded.

"I have just one question for you, before you go." She said, sensing that the conversation was coming to an end. It was getting late.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He shrugged.

"I don't really know."

There was a pause and Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"I think it is well past time for bed. I will escort Potter back to the dorms."

"Alright. Goodnight Harry." Minerva said. "And, before you go, I'd like to say I'm proud of you."

"Proud?" The boy asked.

"Yes. For coming to tell me. You are a true Gryffindor. I'm glad to be your head of house."

Harry smiled brightly.

"Thank you, professor. Good night."

Snape led him out and gently closed the door behind them. The boy followed him swiftly. There was a new life in his step, and Snape could see it was hope. When they reached the portrait to the commons area, he turned to the boy.

"I, too, am proud of you. You truly are brave and worthy of the title Gryffindor."

The smile made a second appearance.

"Thank you, sir."

Snape smiled back approvingly.

"And don't you ever tell anyone I said that."

Harry laughed.

"Yes sir. Goodnight!"

And with that, the boy opened the portrait with the password. It closed silently and Snape was suddenly aware of the gentle silence of Hogwarts at night. There was nothing more frightening and more peaceful than the castle's grand stone hallways and towering pillars, lit by flickering torches casting shadows similar to live creatures. For all Snape knew, they could be real moving shadows, filled with life granted by magic. The only sound in the massive stone corridor was Snape's boots echoing as he walked the castle. He was not quite ready to sleep yet. Something strange was emanating from those shadows. A familiar aura.

After walking around the perimeter of the castle and ensuring nothing strange was aloof in an immediate area, Snape made his way to his most popular haunt. The sky was clear and cold air surrounded, blowing gently. Snape quickly looked around and made sure there was no one on top of the tower. After looking behind him for a second time, he turned around, sure he was completely alone. However, he saw a figure that was not there before, or a shadow of one, on the far side of the tower, peering over the edge where Snape usually stood. He approached very slowly, quiet, with caution in his step. Drawing his wand he shouted out,

"Who are you?" The figure did not move.

"Turn around, this instant if you don't want to be hexed into oblivion!"

Snape could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Who was this? It was too tall to be a student. He could see long hair blowing in the wind, so it had to be female. But there was something frighteningly familiar about the shape of her, the length of her hair. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Why do you always stand up here, Severus?"

He turned around abruptly, Dumbledore standing at the entrance of the tower with his hands behind his back, a long white beard trailing in the wind.

Snape was too stunned to say anything. He quickly turned back, to see the figure was gone. Dumbledore strode past him and went to stand just where it had been previously. He lit the little torch on the wall with his wand and sighed.

"Is it because of the many stars, so clear in the sky making beautiful shapes with their dim lights? Or is it a more sentimental reason?"

He looked over his shoulder, a knowing expression on his face, then back out.

"It's really none of your business, headmaster." Snape snapped.

"I see. But it truly is. I saw you and her."

"Stop. Don't remind me."

But the old man continued on.

"You used to find her up here when she couldn't sleep. When she was crying. You always made her feel better or you brought her a sleeping potion. You'd give her sweet dreams."

"I said stop!" Snape was on the verge of shouting. "That's all in the past now. It's not like she even really cared. I mean, she became Lily Potter, for God's sake!"

Dumbledore turned around and leaned back on the side of the tower.

"Do you hate him for it?" He asked solemnly.

"Yes!" Snape yelled. "I hate James Potter more than anyone else in this entire world! I hate him!"

The old man smiled sadly. This irritated Snape even more. He almost stormed away. But the next thing he said dissolved his irritation and stopped him in his tracks.

"No, you don't. You don't hate him at all."

The wind howled across the tower.

"How could you think that?" Snape spat.

"Because. He made her happy. And when she was happy, How could you not be too?"

Snape didn't know what to say. Or how to say it. How come this man always knew the things that Snape tried so hard to lock away? That man took the love of his life. But…

"Damn you." He said and stomped off of the tower. He barely heard Dumbledore say,

"Goodnight, Severus."


End file.
